The Price of Pride
by Mialyn Tee
Summary: Their first encounter had been overly humiliating. After that, they always seemed to be bumping into each other no matter where she went. And Diana could live with it, had he not this skill to make her forget her upbringing with his simple presence. Formely "Contemplation" AU Regency
1. Chapter 1

**The Price of Pride**

 **1**

The ball was dreadfully boring. Diana Troy sighed deeply as she glanced at the dancers spinning like tops around the room. The whirling of fluffy dresses wiped the floor as the women moved gaily, men's shoes rasped on the flooring. She glanced absentmindedly at the couple on her right; a redhead shyly flirting with a blonde peacock.

"If Alexa won't mind her manners, I will certainly remind them to her."

Diana glanced on the left and was met with another redhead's furious golden-green eyes. Artemis Bana-Mighdall, her best friend, was fuming at the sight of her sister's actions with a man she did not know –therefore, had yet vetoed. Unlike her sister, Alexa had a much friendlier and easy-going nature. She could connect with people and lull them into a comfortable conversation within moments.

"This is naught but a harmless flirt, Artemis," Diana replied gently. "Your sister is not the simpleminded girl she used to be."

"Harmless? Pah!" the redhead snorted and resumed her glaring. "The wrong man will come to whisk her away and she will follow like the hopeless and useless romantic she is."

Diana bit back a chuckle.

"You underestimate Alexa," she replied with a smile. "I believe she is much more aware of human nature that she lets on. Not to mention, someone has to balance the lack of romance in you."

"I am _plenty_ romantic," Artemis protested loudly, drawing the attention of a few young people. Those who knew the redhead actually sniggered. Artemis silenced them with one heated glare and added: "I just haven't found the _right_ man to be romantic with."

This time, Diana laughed good-naturally. Artemis' parents were wealthy enough with no immediate heir; the redhead had the freedom to choose her future partner. Diana's situation was quite comfortable too, but unlike her friends, _she_ had a brother who would inherit their father's domains, and she did not trust Jason behind the reins. Her own marriage was inevitable if she wished to escape financial ruin. At least, she consoled herself by thinking her father would never force her hand. Hadrian Troy might be one of the most cunning men walking on this earth; he truly did care for his children. Her opinion would be respected should she veto one of his choices. She was after all, according to his own words, the most sensible one.

"Diana?"

The dark-haired girl blinked and realized her friend had been talking -and she not listening.

"Pardon, I was lost in thoughts," she admitted with a guilty smile. "You were saying?"

Artemis rolled her eyes.

"At least three-dozen of peacocks have been eyeing you like hungry hyenas. I know you have noticed them and yet, you have given no encouragement? You enjoy dancing far more than I do."

Diana chuckled.

"I am not in the mood for a dance," she admitted. "Jason was inclined to go if only to flirt with the ladies and Donna never misses an opportunity to enjoy music. Persephone stayed at home to tend to Lyla, poor thing."

"I thought I haven't seen Mrs. Troy around." Artemis admitted.

A few years after their mother's passing, Hadrian had remarried with Persephone. Lyla was the only child their union had produced so far, and the most fragile one. Diana loved all her siblings, but in truth, she felt a little more protective of the youngest of the tribe. Jason was a male and Donna…well, impulsive and lively Donna. Lyla had health trouble from birth and everyone doubted the poor girl would live past her seventeenth birthday.

"This one is bold," Artemis muttered fast enough for Diana to catch sight on one of said peacocks marching towards them. His name was Ernest something, a minor aristocrat from the neighborhood. They had spoken before, so formal introduction were therefor unnecessary.

"Miss Troy, Miss Bana-Mighdall," he greeted them with a formal bow. "Will one of you ladies agree to be my partner for the next dance?"

His offer was mainly addressed to Diana, both ladies knew it, but Diana was, as she had told her friend earlier, not in the mood.

"I have yet recovered from my previous dances," she replied smoothly. "But Artemis here is free and willing."

The young man's smile became tense. Artemis glowered before her lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Of course," she purred, and the stare she sent to Diana meant: ' _You will pay for this_ '. She held out her arm as propriety demanded and her unfortunate dance partner took it reluctantly. The couple moved to the floor and for a brief moment, Diana amused herself by watching the poor man wincing under Artemis' lack of dancing skills. A few moments later, she decided to find better means of distractions and left the main ball room.

It wasn't the first time she found herself in this odd state of mind, restless and frustrated. She knew what made her edgy though; her father would be leaving with Jason to meet some of their business partners and introduce him as his successor. Although she had done much more for their father over the years and had a deeper understanding of their work, as a female, she was not invited. Not to mention, Jason was _horrid_ where trade was concerned. It wasn't quite his fault, he had just inherited their mother's impatient temper –according to their father –and lack of judgment when it came to monetary affairs.

As she had come to visit the Bana-Mighdall household fairly often, she knew the place like the back of her hand and was familiar with the staff. The rare maid or footman she came across greeted her with the recognition of a familiar guest and none interrupted her course. Her feet led her to the library where she could hopefully find something more entertaining than gossip. The Bana-Mighdall matriarch liked her, so she doubted she would get in trouble for wandering there on her own.

Diana glanced at the rows of books, skipped over their titles, their languages. She could speak and write English, Greek, French and a little Spanish so far. Had they have the spare money, she would have asked her father for further instruction in the Asian part of the world. She stopped by a Chinese-written book, caressed its back with envy. One day, she would be able to read it –and perhaps speak it. Once she had the time and the resources…

"It is certainly rare to see a young woman neglecting a party in favor of books. Then again, you are one peculiar woman, Miss Troy."

Diana nearly jumped, startled. She had thought she was alone. The tall, dark-haired man standing by the end of the row, indicated otherwise. A lifetime of manners was thrown out the window when she recognized him.

"It is even rarer to see a man such as you neglecting women at said party." Unless he had sought refuge here to flee said women. Diana knew how vicious and tactless they could be when hunting for a partner. But that man never had qualms about wooing anything wearing a fluffy gown.

"If Shim'Tar thought I wouldn't try to escape the ball part of her evening, she is a fool," he replied with a slightly mocking tune. Diana blinked in mild surprise; not many dared to speak the first name of the formidable matron, head of the Bana-Mighdall family, so carelessly. "I don't do parties unless necessary."

"Why did you come then?"

The man smirked and shrugged.

"I have enough survival instincts to know one does not decline the invitation of Shim'Tar of Bana-Mighdall. As my presence has been noted, I now privilege a quieter environment. What about you, Miss Troy? Are you hiding from _unwanted_ suitors again?"

Her cheeks burned and butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the memory of their first encounter. She did not let him intimidate her.

"I will leave you to your own company, Mr. Wayne."

He chuckled.

"The library is a big room."

"Not big enough to fit your ego," Diana retorted, and immediately blushed in mortification.

Bruce Wayne of Gotham was without a doubt one of the richest men in the country. His family owned a wide range of companies in trade that had prospered over the years. While he had no title to his name, he had considerable influence in the first and second circles of society. She had met him a little under a year ago and their first encounter had been overly humiliating. Although she had desperately wished to avoid him, they always seemed to be running across each other, no matter where she went. And Diana could live with it, had he not the skill to make her forget her upbringing with his simple presence. Persephone would be horrified by her behavior. Her father…would probably laugh it off. That would probably be _worse_.

Mr. Wayne took a few steps closer, grinning even wider.

"My, my, do you turn ever feistier every time we find ourselves alone?"

Diana refused to back up and stiffened her shoulders.

"Says the man who seeks me out first," she spat coolly. "If you were honorable at all, you would stay away from me."

His growing smirk angered her. They were alone in the library. Should they be discovered by a third party, rumors might arise upon her reputation. Not to mention, stood far too close to be polite. She was briefly remembered of the first time they had been alone –standing so close –upon their very first meeting. She had been suffocating then, overwhelmed by his presence. She wished she could say the effect diminished in time.

"Your pupils are dilated and your breath is hollow," he described her reaction with his deep, suave and seductive tune. "Your cheeks are turning a lovely shade of pink and you won't meet my eye. Tell me, are you remembering our little _encounter_?"

She glared at him, refusing to agree or disagree. He would smell a lie and she was no good liar. Yes, he infuriated her, but there was something _irresistible_ about him too. She might dislike him, but she was no blind fool either. He was the most arrogant, insufferable man she knew, yet at the same time, the most intelligent, entertaining and handsome one too. Not to mention, as she had once tested, his kisses _were_ tantalizing.

"You seem to distrust my word and yet I speak truly; you are one of the handsomest woman of my acquaintances," he went on. The appraising look he gave her shouldn't affect her senses the way it did. "In other circumstances, I might have tried to seduce you."

"And you won't?"

The words escaped her before she could stop them. She didn't know whether she sounded relieved or annoyed –and that irritated her too.

"I won't," he confirmed with a firm nod.

"Why not?" she blurted without thought.

Much to her horror, she sounded almost…hurt. He looked amused again.

"Would you rather I pursue you?"

Diana opened her mouth but thought better of it, in fear of speaking something she didn't mean. What was going on with her?

"You are right; that is a futile question," she said coldly. "I believe you are the very last man I would ever be interested in sharing my life with."

His smile faded slightly and a contemplative glint appeared in his eye. Diana turned around and left the library, hating that she didn't actually wish to hear his reply.

 **Ten months ago**

 _Every gentleman in town had an office in the marketplace. Bruce Wayne's products were in display in a small but efficient magazine, held by his godson Richard Grayson. The young man was absent, as the note 'will return shortly' hanging on the door indicated, but Bruce pushed the door opened far too easily._

 _That was the first indication that something wasn't quite right. He had taught Dick about security and granted, at this hour, not many people wandered in the shops, but he ought to have known better._

 _Unless…_

 _He entered and closed the door as quietly as he could muster. No-one in sight the main room. His shoes were made by the best shoemaker in town, also had the most silent soles installed upon his personal request. He erred closer to the back, where he thought he heard a very faint noise. The door to his personal office was half-opened. He pushed it further –thankfully the hinges didn't make a sound, and was greeted by an unexpected sight._

 _There was indeed someone inside. It was a woman, her back turned to him, busy staring at the display of brochures on his desk. The design of her coat and the rich green fabric suggested she was no commoner._

" _What are you doing here?"_

 _She jumped, startled, and turned around. For a brief moment, Bruce was stricken. Wide dark eyes stared back at him, red pouting lips parted in surprise. From the traces of youth on her face, he deduced she could not be over twenty._

" _I –I apologize," she said, and god, even her sultry voice sounded like a siren's call without even trying. "I was being pursued by an unwanted suitor, and when I saw the opportunity –I just hid in here. Mr. Ludendorff is very persistent."_

 _Ah, he thought, the infamous Ludendorff. The German ambassador was a retired general looking for a wife. His position and privileges made it hard for people to rebuke him. The young lady standing here would be an adequate prey and, if he suspected her rank correctly, then she had been right to hide instead of speaking back._

" _Your name?" he inquired._

" _Miss Diana Troy, of Themyscira," she replied with a small bow._

" _Any relation to Lord Hadrian Troy?"_

 _He assumed she would be a relative; 'Troy' wasn't a common name, and dark hair and olive skin like hers was rarely found in the country. He knew the man by reputation, a Greek expatriate who had somehow landed in England a few decades back, an eccentric aristocrat who skillfully "dabbled" with trade. He never had to personally interact with the man, but he was not looking forward to the opportunity, should it ever happen._

" _He is my father," she replied. Bruce nodded. "I hope my presence here will not offend you. I just wanted to wait a little until he was gone."_

 _Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. Miss Troy shifted uncomfortably on her feet but met his eye without blinking. Did he have any idea who he was?_

" _I have to admit, I am surprised," he said with a hint of an amused smile. "Hiding in_ my _office? Have you not heard of my reputation?"_

 _The young woman blinked twice, finally seemed to spot the name 'Wayne' written in bold on the brochure's cover, and blanched. Ah, so she had._

" _I did not have time to think," she said, a little more insistently. "I went to the closest unlocked place I found. I had no idea this was your office, Mr. Wayne."_

 _She sounded so innocent he was more than willing to believe her._

" _Well, it is," he replied, definitively amused. "And since I feel in gracious mood, I will not mention this encounter."_

 _She narrowed her eyes. A suspicious glint appeared, as if she was already suspecting he had something in mind._

" _What do you demand in return?"_

 _Not so naïve then, he concluded, pleased. He already knew what he would demand of her. Those lips were_ calling _to him._

" _A kiss."_

 _This time, etiquette was thrown out the window as she goggled at him in disbelief._

" _What?" she blurted boldly._

 _His smirk only increased._

" _A lady such as you…" he stepped closer. "…hiding in a place like this –alone with me nonetheless…" Miss Troy stepped back. "It may raise questions."_

 _Another step closer. Another step back._

" _I had no other intention but to escape Mr. Ludendorff's advances," she repeated, a little more sternly. She could not move further because of the wall._

 _His smirk widened as he stood far too closer than propriety demanded._

" _Oh, I believe you. My demand remains a quick taste of your lips, Miss Troy. Quite innocent, I assure you."_

" _Or else?"_

 _He didn't answer. He wasn't Ludendorff, wouldn't coerce her into giving him a kiss if she truly braced herself against it. But she didn't need to know that. Bruce felt a little guilty as imagined himself in her stead. The building was mostly empty and he had the upper hand –she had been hiding, but if anyone entered, one word from him, and her reputation could be in tatters. While many matchmaking mamas or indignant fathers would press his hand into marriage, he had enough of the reputation as a rake to escape these kinds of situations without personal injury. He read her annoyance and irritation, the powerlessness as her mouth pressed in a thin line._

" _Fine," she conceded in defeat. "Will you swear on your name you will not say a word about this to anyone?"_

" _The devil himself won't know," Bruce promised, and cupped her cheek. He leant forward and brushed her mouth with his. A brief touch at first. Her lips were soft and a floral scent –jasmine? –made him slightly dizzy. When their lips met, he felt her stiffen. She made to reflexively step back but the wall held her firmly in place. He pressed harder. She raised her arms between them. At first, he thought she intended to push him away. He even felt a light pressure from her hands on his pectoral._

No, not yet _, he thought, and coaxed her lips into moving against his._

 _She tasted like honey and sweets and smelt so very good. He moved his hand to rest on her waist and pull her closer. In spite of the layer of clothes between them, he thought he felt her warmth of her body bleed through the fabric. Her forearms and hands were still pressed against his chest, but now her fingers were caressing his suit. He suddenly bit her lower lip, making her gasp and moan softly in surprise. Heat slammed in his loins._

 _Bruce renewed his kiss with intensity. He suddenly wanted to taste a lot more than her mouth. Her neck for starters. And maybe explore the shy neckline and further down the curve-_

 _He was shoved away violently, nearly tumbling back over his desk. Miss Troy's lips were swollen, her skin red in mortification and shame. She didn't meet his eye when she spoke next:_

" _That was payment enough I believe."_

 _She sounded breathless. Bruce felt slightly guilty._

" _Far enough," he replied once he gathered himself. "I wish you a good day, Miss Troy." The young lady didn't reply but bit her lower lip –discreetly, but enough for him to realize she was actually tasting…his chest warmed at the idea that she might have enjoyed their exchange as much as he had, though she would never admit it. In one of his boldest moves, he added with a cheeky smirk: "May we meet again soon again."_

 _The words snapped her out of her reverie. The young woman huffed and left his office hurriedly. He watched as the green fluff vanished out of the door, and made a mental note to attend every future event she was likely to make an appearance. He wanted to learn a little more about her._

"I assume you have encountered Miss Troy sir?"

Bruce was broken from his reverie by his butler's arrival. Alfred had stood by his side ever since his parents had been murdered nearly twenty years ago. The faithful man had brought him up and protected him from the oh-so many temptations and silver tongues that had showed around the young orphan. He was the only one holding Bruce's absolute trust, and his personal voice of reason.

"Am I that obvious?" he asked lightly. The butler sighed heavily.

"If I may observe, you have a Cheshire cat grin every time you cross the young lady."

"That might be the brandy, or the port," Bruce couldn't help but tease. He did have quite a few glasses of each. His butler rolled his eyes and muttered:

"Do make an offer to her father before she is given away to a lucky soul."

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, to say that he was not actually interested in marrying her, just teasing, but then the idea of her with another man made him frown.

He leant back in his chair, considering Alfred's words, mostly to humor him. Miss Diana Troy _was_ an attractive prospect. Her father was an aristocrat, a rich one to boot –rich enough to give him and his family a very comfortably living, as long as his son didn't invest the family fortune in inadequate affairs. Considering the few conversations he had with the lad, that was an unfortunate possibility.

Bruce also knew she was trained to oversee trade and economics. He thought he had heard rumors about Troy lamenting that his daughter had not been born a son, for she showed far more potential than her brother in the matter of trade. Bruce wouldn't be surprised if Miss Troy didn't have a hand in the recent decisions the man had made.

So she was young, wealthy enough and understood business, he summarized. Her youth and money alone would be enough to convince a lot of men seeking for a wife. The training in trade interested him more. His own father used his mother to oversee some things when he couldn't, and he remembered learning the hand-to-hand basics while watching her work. So yes, one of his criteria in selecting a wife was someone he could rely on in the working domain too.

It didn't hurt that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever meet. Her passionate eyes, her pride, her compassion and those curves underneath her well-fitting clothes…he had already been privy to the taste of her lips. He would be lying if he said he hadn't wondered how she would look in his bed. Some nights, he had imagined that long dark hair loose on her shoulders, her wide eyes on him as she bit her lower lip, her olive skin on display. She would be shyly expecting him, her body bare for him to see –or perhaps hidden under the covers? But those cheeks would turn pink as he approached, and her mouth would open to greet his, and he would only need one hand to throw the sheets away and reveal her generous curves.

Bruce cleared his throat, focusing back on his main stream of thoughts. He could definitively take her to bed. But could he _marry_ her?

He remembered watching how she smiled, the way her eyes twinkled and the dimples brightening her face. He imagined that smile directed to him, and his chest felt…warmer.

Perhaps he _could_ marry her.

Bruce ran a hand over his face. It was early in the morning, he needed rest. Alfred was just taking advantage of his semi-awakened state to let him indulge in ideas and play with his brains. Still, when he went to bed that early morning, he couldn't help but glance to his right and picture a sleeping Diana curled by his side.

He closed his eyes, almost hearing her breathe, and allowed the imaginary sound lull him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! This fic will be updated once a week on Saturdays. My other unfinished works have not been abandonned either, I am just not inspired with them right now.**  
 **I hope you will enjoy this take -though for warning, don't expect a 'Pride and Prejudice' remake. The plot is still ongoing in the Regency era though.**  
 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **The Price of Pride**

 **2**

 _The carriage shook on the rocky road. Bruce sat squeezed between a man and a woman, barely able to breathe. The horses' hooves slammed on the path as they crossed the dark woods. The windows were covered by small curtains, halfway hiding the outside view, but he could still see the blurry landscape passing by._

 _They shouldn't be here. It was late, so very late. He disliked nightfall on the road, loathed traveling full night even more. They should have stayed at the last inn. But they were in a hurry._

 _The carriage shook again and this time it stopped. Bruce reflexively curled against the woman. She was holding him tightly against her, whispering words he did not understand. The other man shouted something. Nothing replied. He reached for the handle, pulled the door open._

 _A monster of darkness with bloody hands stood outside, mouth opened on rows of teeth, ready to devour them all._

Bruce woke up gasping for air.

His heart raced and his skin sweat, hands trembled as they clung to his sheets. He briefly closed his eyes, forced his mind to focus. He was in his town house. He lay alone under soft covers, his back against a comfortable mattress. He was not in that carriage, holding onto his mother while trembling with fear. His parents were dead, he was alive. Bruce opened his eyes again and repeated the last part to himself. _I am alive._

 _But am I lucky to be so?_

He forced himself into a seated position, ran a hand over his face to chase the remains of his nightmare. Or twisted memory. Whichever fit best, he supposed. He shouldn't have indulged so much last night. Too much alcohol messed with his head. Too much alcohol brought back the things he would rather keep forgotten, and he was alone to deal with it.

 _It wouldn't happen if you were married,_ a small voice, eerie similar to Alfred, teased in the back of his mind.

Bruce groaned in frustration. He had a handful of mistresses scattered around town. After a well-served banquet, he usually stopped by one place or another depending if they were receiving, called for the lady and stayed the night. It had been a while since he had visited any, though. And he knew exactly why. The reason was a tall, dark-haired woman with big doe eyes and a tendency to distract him whenever she stood around.

He glanced at the empty side of his bed, recalling how he had imagined her lying there before going to sleep. He could easily picture her now, curled on a side, watching him back. He wondered if she'd welcome his attentions, or even offer them. Some of the women he had bedded before did not appreciate his caresses. Miss Troy though? She would most likely. From their multiples conversations and his personal observations, she seemed to be a very _passionate_ woman. Arousing his own passions would not be hard either; one stolen kiss had his control wavering already. What would it feel to have her willing by his side?

The door opened and Alfred stepped in. The butler was impeccably dressed, in spite of having likely slept even less than him.

"Good morning sir," he said once he realized his employer was awake. "I hope the night brought you council."

"Brought me nightmares, if anything," he muttered. The butler immediately turned concerned; he would know what haunted Bruce's dreams. "I am fine Alfred. It will pass."

To any other employee, he would have never dared to confess this. But Alfred had known him ever since he ran around the propriety in short pants. The most obvious mark of their familiarity was the fact he still called the man by his first name, regardless of his highest position amongst the domestics.

"Your partners will be expecting you at eleven for your weekly planning," Alfred announced then, falling back into their morning routine.

Bruce knew he would have to force himself awake sooner or later.

"Of course," he mumbled and pushed himself on his feet. "Thank you Alfred."

He washed and dressed, and breakfast was brought to his room on a tray. Bruce began eating while his eyes skimmed over the newspaper. Nothing out of the ordinary –business was running smoothly, no catastrophic meteorological event was announced and Napoleon was still at war with the rest of the world. His eyes lingered when he caught the name of Ambassador Ludendorff.

A small article hinted about bribery that might have been given, as a magistrate had suddenly released a man after he had committed theft –a man who, according to the reporter, worked for the former general himself. He smirked. The article was signed _L_ and although the letter could mean a dozen names, he could count on one hand the number of people who would dare go against a politician so subtly. Mister Perry was growing more and more daring in his older years, if he allowed his own niece to dabble with journalism. Miss Lois Lane was a close acquaintance of his –if not one of his rare trusted friends, and he would recognize her penmanship anywhere. Not to mention, he had been the one to needle her onto Ludendorff. Lois had been itching for a real, serious and scandalous story, and Bruce had been more than happy to oblige. Though never voiced aloud, some rumors concerning the man would definitively be worth pursuing. The way Ludendorff had acted towards Miss Troy had ruffled his feathers and what better revenge than nudge another determined, often underestimated, young woman upon his scent?

Ludendorff belonged to the gentry who gave themself far more importance than they actually had. Unfortunately, the little importance that they had could prove itself harmful for those around them. Bruce still remembered archly how uncomfortable Miss Troy had looked when she spoke of her unwanted suitor. And suddenly, he wondered how she viewed _him_.

Given their most recent conversation, she did not seem to hold him in high esteem. It was understandable; he had, admittedly, taken advantage of her situation for his own pleasure. No wonder why she could barely stand his presence. And yet, he could tell she was intrigued by him. Her eyes sought his presence when his name was announced. Her body betrayed her attraction and in spite of their parting words, her reaction indicated she might not be so against the idea of him pursuing her. Bruce huffed as he remembered his own words. No seduction for Miss Troy. No, she was far too…far too…

She did not deserve his lusting.

So many grand ladies put on airs they had not earned. These women, Bruce could play and torment guiltlessly. Miss Troy was a different breed altogether. She was no gentle flower, but he felt protective of her. They agreed on many things but he often stated the opposite just to hear her lovely voice and see the flash of anger in her eyes. Yes indeed, she was not the kind of woman he could just bed and forget. She deserved to be cherished and respected by a man who would worship her to her dying days. He was far too fickle, far too unstable to fill that role.

 _You can't know till you try_ , whispered the same little voice eerie similar to Alfred's.

 _Oh shut up_ , his own voice retorted, almost embarrassed.

"Sir, Master Richard is expecting you in your office."

Bruce nearly started at Alfred's voice. He hadn't heard him enter his rooms.

"What?" He blurted inelegantly. "Didn't he have his own meeting today?"

"Indeed," Alfred confirmed. "Nevertheless, he seeks your council and approval before engaging this meeting."

He racked his memory, trying to pinpoint who was Richard supposed to meet, and remembered him vaguely speaking of an engineer who had approached him with a fabulous new invention...doing whatever...The project hadn't caught his attention but Richard had sounded interested nonetheless.

"Yes, of course," he muttered. "I will be there shortly."

The butler hummed in satisfaction and left. Bruce promptly finished his breakfast, skimming over the last articles of the newspaper, and hurried to his office.

While everyone called Richard his godson, Bruce had never actually known any of the young man's relations. He had merely happened to witness the murder of Richard's parents when the boy was barely ten, and had taken him away before the murderer could come after him. He hadn't planned to keep him once the crime had been solved. Yet, by the time the criminal was arrested and hanged, his household had fallen in love with the young orphan and Bruce had, reluctantly, turned attached to him. It did help that Richard was no simpleton and quite intelligent. The boy had thus become his family, his partner and, should he never sire a child, his heir.

Said young man was currently sitting on his desk, an open book in hand. He stood when Bruce entered the room.

"Well, you look like you have been out in society one night too much," he teased as a greeting. "Tell me, do you really have your eyes set on a young lady? What was her name again, Miss Troy?"

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You ought to stop gossiping with Alfred," he muttered. "I am _not_ pursuing her."

"You attend nearly every event she goes to," Richard pointed out, a mischievous glint in his eye. "From your perspective, that is almost courting."

Bruce ignored the young man's words and focused on the point of their meeting.

"You wanted to see me, here I am," he replied instead. "What is this opportunity about?"

Richard's expression turned slightly more serious. He pulled a bunch of papers and handed them to him. They contained a very detailed plan of a huge mechanism.

"The man's name is Steve Trevor. He owns a minor company back in the colonies. He and his partner, some Samir something, I'm not sure I got the name right, need funds to build the newest revolutionary machine. It's a steam-powered locomotive, a reviewed version inspired from Mr. Trevithick. It's supposed to be lighter, faster and more economical."

Bruce remained silent. Richard had to be aware that investing in something he could not keep a close eye on was not a good idea. Much to his relief, the young man went on:

"Their so-called innovation will never work, I studied steam engines long and carefully enough to know we will need a few years to best the first attempt. However, I am more interested in finding out if either man designed this particular part." He pointed at one point of the drafted engine, the one most obvious modification of the plan. "If whoever came by this might turn out to be a gold mine. I want to interview _that_ person."

Bruce nodded.

"Sounds sound enough. You don't need my approval for this," he went on, and narrowed his eyes. "What are you here for exactly?"

Richard grinned:

"That is for me to know and you to wonder." He patted his godfather on the shoulder. "Have a good day, Bruce." And promptly left.

TPOP

Diana woke up in a sore mood and even the copious breakfast couldn't quell her anger. Her encounter with Mr. Wayne weighted on her mind, as it usually did. The man always had that dreadful effect on her, and she loathed it. Usually, she was the one who figured out what people thought, trained to anticipate their reaction. Her father had trained her to seek for the tiniest detail that would make a difference. But that man… _that_ _man_ ruffled her feathers, challenged her self-control, and damn if she let his words distract her again-

"You seem upset this morning, Diana. I take it you had an interesting encounter last night?"

She breathed in slowly and met her father's eye. Hadrian Troy was one of the most imposing men she had ever known, barring Mr. Wayne. He towered over people like a giant, his long hair usually tied in a low ponytail, his intense eyes and sharp smirk striking fear in the heart of people who didn't know him well…or knew him _too_ well. He had unparalleled flair to sniff a lie or a good deal, a keen mind and a great sense of business –one that had allowed him to build his own empire upon arriving in England, with the help of his first wife's dowry. And unfortunately, he could always, _always_ read through her.

His sentence drew his second wife Persephone's attention. As she hadn't participated to the past night event, she was much more awake and aware of the conversation than her step-children. Donna was valiantly trying not to fall head first in her bowl while Jason did a much better work pretending he was listening instead of dozing off. Lyla was still resting in bed.

"An interesting encounter?" she repeated, intrigued. Diana bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Nothing interesting in the least, I assure you," she muttered.

Somehow, that sentence was enough for her to draw the same conclusion her husband had minutes ago. Persephone sighed and asked resignedly:

"Please Diana; _please_ tell me you did not insult Mr. Wayne this time."

She huffed and protested:

"I did not!" Hadrian's eyes twinkled madly. Her stepmother looked rather desperate. "Why don't you worry about what _Jason_ did instead? You left the ballroom for a while; didn't you?" she added, glaring at her twin.

In spite of his remarkable pretense, her brother was too sleepy to fully comprehend her words.

"Uh?" he merely said, feigning disinterest, when Diana knew he was _this_ close to having his nose fall into his plate.

Her father chuckled.

"Unfortunately daughter, you are the only one awake enough to hold a decent conversation. Hence, you have our full attention." He leant forward. "So, how did the Master of Gotham made himself a nuisance?"

Diana had never told them the full story of their first encounter, but she suspected her father had deduced what had occurred back then. Thankfully, he hadn't attempted to confront the man. Mr. Wayne's less than flattering reputation with ladies could only cause a scandal that would reflect badly on _her_.

"He merely acted like his insufferable self, that is all," she muttered. "Nothing to worry about, I assure you."

Predictably, that did not reassure her stepmother in the least.

"Well, I suppose it is a good thing that man fancies you," Persephone muttered under her breath.

" _WHAT_?"

Her indignant shout pulled Donna and Jason from their lethargy. Even Hadrian raised an eyebrow. The older woman blinked, taken aback, and frowned in displeasure. Diana flushed red when she realized how loud she had been.

"Manners Diana," Persephone chided. "I have I told you many times about -"

"He does not _fancy_ me," she retorted sharply. "He is a pest, always looming and showing up in balls even when he doesn't want to go, if only to safeguard his interests. But. He. Does. Not. _Fancy_ me. The only reason he approaches me is to tease or flirt when he is bored. I am only an amusement to him, not a…an _interest_."

Her stepmother blinked again, and then, a rare smirk grew on her face. Diana felt her hairs stand on her arms; the older woman was a calm, gentle and composed person by nature. Anytime she showed a sign of something more –like a loud laugh, a particular twinkle or, in this case, a smirk –everyone knew something was up. The reaction was one of the few things she and her husband had in common.

"That is not quite what I heard," she countered slowly. "Apparently, his appearances at receptions have increased this past year…and you were attending most of them."

"That's not-" Diana protested.

"On a few occasions, he has inquired about our family's presence."

"He could have wanted to speak to fa-"

"And he has approached _you_ in _each_ and _every_ one of them."

Her last sentence was marked by a smug smirk. Diana refused to acknowledge that her words. Persephone's smirk turned into a smile of mischief and resumed eating her breakfast. Donna finally grasped that gossip was at stake and found herself awakened enough to participate:

"Are we speaking of M. Wayne again?" she hazarded.

Diana pinched her lips and pushed away from the table, exceeded.

"I will leave and breathe fresh air. I believe I have a headache."

Her father laughed loudly. Diana stood without waiting for permission, feeling even more frustrated.

"On your way out, will you be a dear and see how your sister is fairing?" Persephone asked as she passed by her seat. "She ought to have been up by now."

Diana agreed and left the room promptly before another comment could be made.

She made her way into the main hall, followed the stairs up to the first level into the family wing. Lyla's bedroom was the first on the right, closest to the corridor in case she needed to be moved quickly. A quick knock later, the door opened with a faint creaking. Lyla's maid peeked through, obscuring most of the light from the outside. The room behind her was completely dark.

"Good morning Miss Troy," the woman said quietly. "Miss Lyla is still sleeping. She had a trying night."

Diana pursed her lips, halfway displeased, halfway worried. Her sister had taken ill last night, although it had not been as bad as before. She could not have had a turn to worse so soon, could she? Her step-mother would have never left her bedchamber otherwise.

"Persephone requested her presence downstairs," she replied eventually. "Open the curtains, I will see myself if I ought to obey her or not."

The maid reluctantly retreated to follow her orders. Diana entered and waited for the sunlight to bring some brightness to the room to approach the large bed. Lyla's room had been painted in light colors, soft tones of purple and red. The windows opened on the spectacular garden, although it was not the best view. The girl herself was bundled under thick brown covers, eyes closed. Her skin had the paleness of people who seldom went out, her blonde hair were braided for sleep. The sleeper's nose twitched slightly.

"You can stop pretending Lyla," Diana announced, her arms crossed but her tone amused. Her sister cracked an eye open, smiling sheepishly. She looked tired, but not sickly tired. She deduced: "You were up writing letters all night again, weren't you?"

The blonde girl shrugged.

"I received many this week; Diana," she whispered. "I wanted to finish them."

Her weak constitution didn't allow her many physical activities. She could not walk outside for too long nor could she ride. Her letters to her friends were her main distraction, one her father generously allowed. He sometimes teased that the cost of her correspondence was a line he included in the accounting books.

"And it could have not waited to-day?" Diana retorted.

Lyla ignored her question.

"Will you call upon Artemis and Alexa this afternoon?"

"As early as visiting hours allow," Diana admitted. "I will not stay confined at home listening to Persephone rambling about my nonexistent suitors."

Lyla's pale green eyes twinkled with amusement. It was a shame her health was so poor, Diana thought. At fourteen already, her sister had every potential of becoming a very handsome woman.

"I shall not ponder over the reason why," she laughed. "I was asking, for I need to post my letters. Would you mind bringing them to the post office on your way? M. Charon has most likely already gone to town and I need one to leave most urgently."

"Of course I will," Diana replied and gently stroke her youngest sibling's head. She stood and headed to the desk. Three letters were ready to go, waiting to be taken. She glanced at the names. Cassandra Cain and Barbara Gordon she recognized. The former was a ward to a tradesman their father did business with, the latter the daughter of a detective in London. While the third name sounded unfamiliar, the street was anything but. "That is a fancy place in London," she said. "Who is Kara Kent?"

"She comes from the colonies," Lyla said excitedly. "Barbara last wrote she was seeking for new correspondents and encouraged me to send word to her. We have been exchanging letters for two weeks now."

Diana frowned.

"Did father allow this?"

"He does not oppose to me writing to Barbara, and she is far from the first and second circles of society," Lyla replied with a shrug before adding: "Please do not tell him, Kara is a very interesting person. I learn so much from her! This is all very harmless."

Diana sighed.

"As long as she does not call unexpectedly one day," she replied and folded the letters together. "Persephone expects you downstairs soon."

Lyla pouted. Diana raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Please lay my clothes out, Sarah," the younger girl ordered her maid reluctantly. "I do have to make Jason hold onto his word to drive me around the garden in the phaeton. He promised I would learn to handle the reins this time."

"You do realize you will have to battle Donna?" Diana pointed out. Her younger sister loved driving the phaeton and was, admittedly, quite skilled at it.

"Donna will be joining her friends at Mrs. Beaumont's tea shop, or so I heard," Lyla replied lightly. "She keeps returning there even though it is not the most popular place. Perhaps it is the French touch and pastries? They _are_ very tasty."

Diana laughed and big goodbye to her youngest sister. She left the maid to dress her sister and headed back to her own bedchamber. As she approached the room, her steps suddenly faltered and stopped in front of a halfway-opened door. The room behind it, the former nursery, had been arranged for the exclusive use of the siblings. Perhaps a servant had been a little careless in their cleaning this morning, she thought.

She paused a brief moment, then made up her mind and stepped inside. The furniture was disposed as it ought to be, small but elegant couches surrounded a table set for card games and a chessboard stood next to the fire. In the far back, books filled the few shelves. Papers for correspondence were spread on a second table, near the outside window with a view on the front yard. Only three paintings decorated the walls. All three were aligned in order over the chimney. From right to left, Persephone, Hadrian Troy and last…

Diana stepped closer to the portrait of the other woman. She wore a thick white dress with golden patterns embroiled in the sleeves and the bustier. Her necklace, a single pendent in the shape of a "W", hung over her collarbone. Dark blonde hair was let loose over her shoulders, covering any earrings she might have worn. On the top of her head, the metallic headband seemed to glister with life. Piercing eyes stared right back at her. Diana entered the room and shut the door behind. She stepped closer, stopped at a respectable distance. She bowed respectfully, as if the portrait had been alive.

"Good morning mother," she whispered, her throat tight.

Hippolyta had only been twenty when the painting had been ordered, the very year of her marriage. From the echoes in Diana's memory, it had not been a happy one. Her family had been eager to get rid of their eldest daughter, a tomboy with a blatant disregard for protocol. Hadrian Troy had the aristocratic title but no money to back it and hadn't minded a wild wife. The tumultuous marriage had lasted six years, until Hippolyta fell off her horse and broke her neck. Diana had only been four at the time, but she sometimes remembered a dry laugh and warm arms wrapping her into safety.

She often wished she could have met her mother at an older age. Her father sometimes mentioned she had been exceptionally sharp-witted, like a beautiful rose with even sharper thorns. Although she resented her married life, would she have cared for her children's education or left them to their governess and nannies' hands? Persephone had always been a steady presence by their side, and those who knew both former and current wife would whisper of their differences. Sometimes, Diana wondered what kind of woman she would have turned to be, had her mother lived.

Lyla's letters suddenly felt heavier in her hand. Had Hippolyta Troy not died in that accident, the frail girl would have never been born. In spite of her peculiar character, Diana could not envision a world without her little sister.

Hippoyta's gaze suddenly turned heavier, as if silently accusing her of disloyalty. Diana looked away uneasily. Feeling guilty about the dead's sensitivity was useless, but she could always, somewhat, feel her mother's shadow heaving over her shoulders. She forced the uncomfortable sensation away and left the room. She needed to put Lyla's letters in her reticule in prevision of this afternoon's outing. Then, she would head outside. After this moment, she truly needed fresh air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews :)**

* * *

 **The Price of Pride**

 **3**

Hadrian Troy sat behind his desk, contemplated his latest report. The ball had tired him more than he expected, but tiredness had no place in the world of business. Charon had brought him many letters to be replied to and he had a new contract draft to look over.

Jason had drawn that one, assuring him that Charlie McAllen would be a very beneficial partner in the future years. He was an inventor and an engineer, had built a steam engine better fitted for locomotives. Jason was persuaded that only his Scottish origins prevented the man from gaining the funds to finance his project. Said project sounded solid, the project would be built in Scotland, and Hadrian _had_ been seeking other areas to invest in.

Still, the man hesitated. Had Diana presented the same offer, he would have trusted her judgment. She could smell potential as well as he did. Jason however was easily drawn by artifices…He sighed inwardly. If he never gave his son a chance, how could Jason ever gain the confidence he needed? Hadrian leaned back in his seat, feeling quite at loss. Not for the first time, he wished Diana had been born a boy. His daughter knew the work better than her brother ever would, knew how to recognize flattery and vile manipulations. He would have named her heir without a second thought, most likely encourage her marriage with one of the Bana-Midgall daughters, and his retirement would be set. Unfortunately, she would never be allowed to be on the front, and her brother was too proud to listen to her suggestions. The boy didn't have ill-intents, but Hadrian feared he had been a little too eager to set his mark in the world. There was nothing wrong with ambition –he was plenty ambitious himself –but running into a market without sight of the many variables was not recommended.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he ordered, and rearranged his papers. Though he did not expect outsiders to-day, he never let his desk reveal what kind of work he was up to.

Jason stepped in, groomed and far more awake than at breakfast. His hair was neatly arranged in the back of his head, his clear eyes bright and his posture straight. He _looked_ every bit like the heir Hadrian _wished_ him to be.

"You asked for me father?"

"I did," he confirmed. "Sit."

The young man took place across his desk. Hadrian was glad to note he did not slouch or cross his legs or made himself at ease. The upcoming conversation was _not_ made to make Jason feel at ease.

"Your sister said something interesting this morning," he started. "Why did you leave the ball yesterday night and where were you?"

Jason huffed in contempt and replied dryly:

"I was not aware you would hold attention to Diana's attempt at redirecting the conversation."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow and pointed out:

"If your sister noted your absence, even subconsciously, then it must have been a long one. I know my daughter, Jason, and I know you. You would never miss the opportunity to flirt with the ladies and they were plenty last night. I do not mind your dalliances as long as they stay in the dark. However, _you_ are my heir. Your misgivings are my concerns until I pass the reins." He crossed his fingers, narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That stare usually made his son cower and spill his darkest secrets. "Tell me now, Jason, where did you go?"

The young man looked put-off and vexed, but in front of the patriarchal authority, did admit:

"I was meeting someone," he admitted. "I am not the only one interested in Mr. McAllen's plans. The man I met wanted to….intimidate me into giving up." The young man snorted. "I am not easily scared off."

Hadrian admitted that eager interest from another competitor could be a good sign, but it depended on the competitor.

"Do you know who tried to discourage you?"

Jason's expression turned closer to preening.

"He used a lady and another man to cover his identity, but I recognized them both. They work for Alexander Luthor."

This time, the older man winced inwardly. Of all the competitors he could have on the market, Alexander 'Lex' Luthor was one of the few he would stay clear of. The late Luthor had been ruthless, using his influence in other unsavory means and dealings before a noisy paper exposed his misleads and ruined him. From the rumors he had heard, his son was no better. His company was burgeoning nicely, with all the airs of amiability. Still, the younger heir always made Hadrian uncomfortable. And his son, _his_ hotheaded son, wanted to go against that man? Competition was one thing, and Hadrian had intimidated and been intimidated over time, but Jason was too young in the eyes of the world to stand against a scoundrel like Luthor.

"You will tell me exactly what has been said," Hadrian said seriously.

Jason, misunderstanding the intention behind the order, immediately launched himself into the tale. Perhaps it would help him realize he had gotten himself in a precarious position…But Hadrian knew that impetuous youth would disregard any danger, so it would be up to him to anticipate any danger to come before it came too late.

 **TPOP**

The afternoon had barely begun that Diana found herself eager to be away from her family's inquisitiveness. She left the household at the earliest fashionable hour and hurried to her best friends' house. The matriarch was out, but the twins receiving. Diana was led to her friends' parlor immediately. She was a little surprised to see them up, but much less when they appeared barely presentable. While the older twin had dressed into a modest dress, customary when she did not seek to impress, the younger twin was wearing a simple tunic, very loose and barely thick enough to hide her womanly curves. Her mother would probably have a fit if she caught wind of her youngest daughter welcoming guests in such a state of _déshabillé_. If asked, Diana might consider the cloth's design close to what Grecian woman used to wear back in the Antique times. Alexa must have fallen back into her obsession with the Antiquity, but going as far as to dress like one? Diana had long forgone trying to understand the functioning of the young woman's mind.

"I was not expecting your visit so soon," Artemis said after the customary greetings were exchanged.

"My family has turned against me. I prayed for your presence to seek refuge," Diana said and took a seat. The couch she chose was set near the window, conveniently providing an excellent view of the gardens. The circles under the redhead's eyes were telling that she had not quite recuperated from the past night, but she looked alert enough to entertain.

"You are always welcomed to this _refuge_ , my friend," Alexa added cheerfully.

"Thank you," she replied graciously. Artemis stepped up to her own bold reputation and declared:

"So, what brings you on our doorstep today? Did your father speak or your brother's lack of accomplishments again? Did Donna drown you with the latest gossip?" Artemis paused and grinned knowingly: "Or were you inevitably questioned about dear Mr. Wayne?"

"Oh please don't!" Diana snapped. "I have enough of mother and Donna's incessant snooping! I did not come for-"

"Peace Diana, Artemis is jesting!" Alexa intervened. She sent her sister a leveled stare. "We shall not broach that subject any longer," she added with a hint of warning. The eldest twin rolled her eyes and returned to her seat.

"Fine," she muttered. "Let us not linger on the weather or the quality of the tea; I have no patience for mindless pleasantries."

"You usually don't," her younger sister muttered. She went ignored.

"I am much more interested in the suspicious behavior your brother showed yesterday evening," Artemis went on. "He left in the middle of the ball and only returned shorty before your family took leave."

Diana sighed heavily.

"So his absence was not unnoticed," she said, displeased. "For Heaven's sake, he is the heir. He should be aware of how his behavior might reflect upon our family, at least until father passes over the mantle." She paused and glanced at her friend suspiciously. "I am surprised you even noticed his coming and goings."

"I did not. Alexa, on the other hand…"

Diana gave the second redhead a side glance. The twin ignored her determinedly but her cheeks colored from a faint blush. Diana suddenly wanted to roll her eyes. Alexa could not be falling for Jason's charms, could she? Given Artemis' grimace, their thoughts aligned.

"Do not fret, your brother is popular among _some_ young ladies but not _that_ popular. There are others catches with better fortune. If anything, most will believe he had gone to meet a mistress." Alexa glared subtly over her book. Her sister ignored her. "He is a man, and will fast be forgotten. In your own interest though, I would advise you watch him more closely. Reputation is a fragile thing."

While she almost gave Artemis a stern look that clearly said she did not need the reminder, Diana held back. While Shim'Tar of Bana-Migdhall had fortune and a title, her flawless reputation had been the only thing that allowed her any independence when she became a widow. That image had somehow evolved in time, but Diana could not deny her friends had been taught the importance of maintaining their dignity to protect themselves in society.

"Although I suppose with Mr. Wayne circling around you like a hungry vulture, and you somehow keeping him at arms' length, you have more to worry about."

Diana did her best not to roll her eyes. Still, her friend had a point. Hadn't she thought the same remark the very previous evening?

"He claims he will not seduce me," she muttered.

"And you believe him?" Artemis inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"He might be a flirt, he is still a man of his word," Diana admitted. For all his faults, Mr. Wayne was not known for vile deception. "I do not believe I will have to worry about his trying to compromise me."

"He might fear your father's success in convincing him to marry you, should he ever try," Artemis smirked. "Speaking of which, have you been introduced you to any suitors?"

"Thank heavens no," Diana replied with a heavy sigh. "Why do you ask? Does your mother...?"

"She hinted at it. She knows not to hope much from me but she still tries. The only way to end up in a marriage will be under duress; else I will end up an old maid. I will gladly leave Alexa carry on the family name."

"I love children," her twin offered, in a way that meant she would not mind the task.

Diana wondered if she was truly considering Jason as a potential husband and tried not to picture paint their children's face. She would have to probe him too; brother or not, she would never allow him to toy with one of her best friend's feelings. Artemis suddenly stood from her seat.

"Why don't we have a tour around the gardens?" she offered. "The sun shines too brightly to stay indoors."

Diana grinned slightly and agreed eagerly. Alexa declined, quoting a book she had yet to finish.

The two young women walked out to wander in the glorious and well-kept gardens. At some point in the past century, the Bana-Migdall family had invested heavily into mastering the expanse of greenery growing around the house. Today, Diana could safely walk through miles of clean paths and observe a multitude of flowers and plants imported from all around the globe. Gossip claimed the Bana-Migdall's always had need for a new gardener for maintenance.

For the first part, the two ladies discussed little else aside plants. Artemis insisted in showing her the new specimen they had finally received the other day. Instead of entering the glasshouse though, she led her friend to a more secluded place. A bench had been set under a tree in a way anyone seated there could see the upcoming passersby and not quite be seen or heard in return.

Diana would have been tempted to tease her friend for her secrecy, had it not been for the sobering expression on her face.

"So my friend, what terrible thing you wanted to confess that even Alexa would not bear to hear?"

Artemis' expression became far darker.

"I want to warn you, about rumors running in some circles. They concern you in a quite disturbing way."

Diana frowned, intrigued.

"I have done nothing warranting any kind of attention, have I?" she asked uncertainly. Artemis ignored her.

"Rumors are that you have become unhappy with some of your father's decisions, and someone fears you may act…rashly." Diana stared at her in shock. Her friend sighed heavily: "I lied when I said I did not watch your brother last night. Mother hears everything, keeps up with the fashionable and the servants' gossip well. Lately, she heard that Jason Troy has been investigating potential husbands for his twin sister. Word is, he has found one." Artemis glowered. "Word is, you are to be married next month."

 **TPOP**

When she returned home by five o'clock, Diana found Jason about to mount his horse. The conversation she and Artemis just had kept plaguing her mind the whole stay and the furious feelings battling in her chest demanded some kind of release. Seeing her brother made her want to call him out on his actions, but she would not dare do it within earshot. While the servants and employees were loyal to the family, gossip still carried on.

"Why hello brother," she exclaimed. "Where are you off to in the late afternoon?"

Either Jason missed her irritation or he ignored it, for he replied cheerfully:

"Fisher needs to gallop, and I desperately need to ride. Lyla has been insufferably slow, guiding the phaeton."

That would do. Diana quickly decided to seize the opportunity and asked:

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

He hopped on the horse's back, picked the reins and grinned:

"As it happens, I would welcome your company. It has been a while since we have taken a ride together, don't you say?"

In spite of her early anger, Diana softened upon hearing those words. As children, they had been inseparable. It wasn't until Jason was forced to leave to study to Cambridge and Diana had her own private masters that she had turned her focus on her younger siblings. Growing up hadn't separated them, but she would admit they would not behave as closely as they did as children anymore. She suddenly realized she missed their childhood mischief too.

"I will order Pegasus to be readied then," she said and turned towards one of the stable boys. Without prompting, the boy ran inside to execute her order. "Did you have any particular path in mind?"

"Through the woods, I'd say, there aren't many travelers at this time," he replied. Fischer whined impatiently. Jason absentmindedly patted the stallion's neck. "This one has far too much energy to spend. Will Pegasus be able to keep up in a race?"

Diana crossed her arms.

"I feel insulted on my dear Pegasus's behalf," she replied mock-angrily. "It is rather Fisher who will have to admire Pegasus' rump."

Jason laughed cheerfully. The mentioned horse was led out. Diana grinned when she realized the saddle hadn't been set for a lady and she would have to ride aside. With the help of a groom, she settled comfortably. Her legs were uncovered from her boots up to her lower knee. Had it been earlier in the afternoon, she would have changed into riding breeches. But as Jason had mentioned, the road through the woods would be less frequented at this time of the day. Both guided their mounts outside the yard and trotted down the path in companionable silence. The house had been out of view for a good five minutes when the siblings exchanged a look. An invisible signal was given. They dug their talons into the horses' sides at the same time and off they darted in a wild gallop.

For a moment, Diana's grievances against Jason were forgotten. Nothing else mattered more than the two of them racing, the wind in her hair and the powerful strides of the beast she was riding. Fisher and Pegasus had been gifts for their thirteenth birthday, young foals, black and white, growing into proud stallions. Diana knew her brother's horse almost as well as she knew hers. She knew Fisher would be faster in a straight path. Pegasus took corners more easily and didn't slow on uneven roads. The only way she could take advantage was to force Jason to ride behind her by cutting his path. Their customary finish line was beyond a rock formation, three miles away. One strategic turn usually occurred halfway into the race. If she could turn before Fisher, she would have a slight advantage.

Her focus didn't waver as they arrived at the first determining turn. Pegasus followed his mistress's tug on the reins and made an admirable cut. Unfortunately, Jason had somehow gained a few seconds by whatsoever miracle. Diana dropped a very unladylike curse when he maintained his advance, to which her brother responded by a loud laugh. Her horse seemed to feel her annoyance at being bested at her own specialty, and obliged when she urged it to go faster.

The two spotted a carriage ahead. Diana was forced to slow Pegasus until he galloped behind Fisher so they could ride past the vehicle without disturbing the travelers too much. She heard a vague shout of protest from the driver but didn't mind it. Her brother had taken a serious advance now and she wanted the distance between them _gone_.

The second strategic turn appeared ahead. Diana grinned, knowing Jason needed to follow the long side of the road and would lose precious seconds. Once again, Pegasus showed his mastery in taking a curve at full speed and managed to catch their lateness. She caught Jason's glare as the two riders were now side by side at full speed, legs almost brushing one another.

When she met his glare with a smirk of her own, his face split into a wide. Diana felt a pang in her chest that had nothing to do with the excitement of the race. How long had it been since they had fun together? She loved her siblings, but Jason was her twin, the one she had been the closest to, the one who confided his mischief to her, who shared his pranks and watched her back when she went up against other children. They use to bear success and failure together. Now, the wall of propriety stood between them.

 _Jason Troy has been investigating potential husbands for his twin sister. Word is, he has found one._

The carefree grin on Jason's face made her suddenly doubt those words. Her dearest brother would not betray her thus. He would never go behind her back and force her into an engagement. The Bana-Migdall matriarch must have mistaken, or the rumors had to be false, or distorted. Perhaps Jason had made a jest amongst his friends while tipsy and had been misinterpreted. No, Diana would not accuse him outright. She would give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him about the rumors later.

She broke the eye connection and focused back on the race. The rock formation that defined the finish line appeared in the afar. She dug her heels into Pegasus's ribs and encouraged him to go faster. Next to her, Jason was doing the same with Fisher. The horses galloped harder, probably as excited as their riders. The path was clear, no other riders than them to disturb the race. If Diana lost her concentration, Jason would take the lead. She had only eyes for the rock formation, and the upcoming end.

They never saw what spooked their horses.

One moment, they were racing. The next, both Fisher and Pegasus whined loudly and bucked in the middle of the road. Diana gasped in surprise and held onto Pegasus' mane for dear life. The horse jumped awkwardly a few times more due to the speed. For a brief moment, Diana feared he would fall on the side and crush her leg underneath his weight. Fortunately, Pegasus only trampled –or made a mixture of trampling and trotting, before calming down. Her heart beat so fast and so hard it hurt. She closed her eyes briefly to catch her breath. Her senses seemed heightened and her hands were trembling. She desperately tried to remember not to clench her legs around Pegasus' ribs and set him off again.

When she managed to regain some semblance of control, she opened her eyes.

The road seemed more deserted than before, for the exception of a fretting Fisher. The black stallion seemed to have hurt his back leg, as it barely touched the ground. What worried her more was the lack of rider on the horse's saddle.

"Jason?" she called out immediately, glancing around. No sight of him. A new kind of fear ran in her veins. "Jason?" she called again and dismounted Pegasus.

She heard a soft responding moan and hurried behind the tree it seemed to come from. Her brother was sprawled on the ground, his limbs spread awkwardly. Diana gasped when she saw one knee horribly bent and knew it was broken. She forced her way through the thick bushes, thorns of hidden wild blackberries scratching her dress. When she finally reached her brother, she feared his situation might be worse than she first expected.

Jason had been thrown off his saddle violently. Aside from his broken leg, he did not appear physically disabled. She worried mostly about his lack of reaction.

"Jason," she repeated firmly. "Jason, can you hear me?"

His eyes were half closed and move. He didn't respond, didn't blink, didn't show any kind of response to her voice.

"Jason, wake up," Diana went on. "Come brother, you are scaring me."

She bent forward, gently tapped his cheek. She ran a hand in his hair, calling his name again. He still didn't respond. When she pulled her hand away from his head, her gloves came out covered in red.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Price of Pride**

 **4.**

Richard Grayson felt thoroughly annoyed. His day had not quite gone the way he had expected. The morning had sounded promising: first, Bruce's desire for his independence had been confirmed when the man had told him to follow his instincts about the upcoming meeting. Alfred had given him a fresh roll of bread and had wished him his best. Next, he had no trouble circulating in town in spite of the late morning hour. It wasn't until he reached his office that things started to take an undesirable turn.

His meeting with Steve Trevor and Samir Taghmaoui had not quite turned out how he expected. The men had showed up late, then had acted quite obnoxiously and refused to disclose the name of the engineer of the revolutionary steam engine. They had claimed having found powerful patrons to support their research, and were only coming to him as a courtesy. Richard had begun to suspect they had stolen the project of another and merely planned to sell the complete set of drawings to the highest bidder. If that was the case, he might never put his hands on the genius who drafted this work.

The meeting had cut short, both parties left displeased and disappointed. Richard had felt his time wasted and left the office early in a bad mood. A quick stop at his favorite club did somewhat lift his spirit. He had come face-to-face with Alexander Luthor. The arrogant man had attempted provoke him into anger, which he failed to do as Richard often faced idiots like him, and then tried to best him at cribbage. While gambling was not quite in his taste, cribbage was _his_ game. Luthor thus lost his credibility and a consequential amount of money. Watching the man leave the table red-faced did make Richard feel better.

The return of his brooding mood was due to the Wayne crest on a carriage stationed in a particular street. Richard tipped his hat down, glaring at the building where his godfather had undoubtedly decided to stay. Bruce was visiting _that_ woman again.

Biting back the urge to spite, he turned around and walked away, determined to rein in his anger for a later date. He did not judge his godfather for keeping mistresses –a year back or so, he himself had been a fervent admirer of a beautiful actress and gifted her with an embarrassing amount of presents to earn her favors. But _that_ particular woman had her claws deep inside his soul and held more power over Bruce that Bruce himself suspected.

 _I hope he marries soon_ , Richard thought bitterly. Alfred had reported his unusual interest for a young lady. Given his reaction when her name was mentioned; Richard thought Bruce might be intrigued enough to consider courting her. In spite of his reputation, the young man knew his father-figure would honor his vows when the time came. He briefly wondered what kind of woman would hold Bruce's attention for so long. While he enjoyed beauty, his godfather definitively had a weakness for clever ones. _That_ woman was beautiful, clever and _manipulative_ , yet had held a very strong influence over Bruce. Richard began to wonder if this new interest would be a good thing after all. Perhaps he should investigate this Miss Troy seriously and ensure she was not attempting to trap one of the most eligible bachelors of London.

Mind made up, he ordered his coach to drop him in a fancy part of London where ladies tended to regroup. The best start would be at Mrs. Beaumont's tea shop. Andrea Beaumont was an old acquaintance of Bruce's, perhaps one of the few women he had laid with in the past and yet with whom he still exchanged gossip. Well, he _did_ help her start her own establishment once he had tired of her. And he _did_ earn a small percentage from her profits. _Mixing pleasure and business_ , Richard thought with an inner snort. _Typical Bruce._

He entered the tea shop. The room immediately quieted. Mrs. Beaumont's clients were mostly, if not exclusively, composed of ladies. He immediately noted a few matchmaking mamas eying him like birds of prey and young women staring more or less openly at his figure. While Richard was not as roguishly handsome as his godfather, he knew he had a certain amount of charm. It did help that he had excellent finances to support his attraction. Still, he had not anticipated the interest of the clients, and promised himself to be extremely short during his visit. He had come to ensure Miss Troy was no fortune-hunter, not to allow a fortune-hunter catch him!

He tipped his hat in the general direction of the ladies and granted them what Bruce called _the Grayson smile_. Most of the ladies blushed, much to his pleasure. The cheerful conversations resumed and Richard was certain his name would be on most lips within seconds. Mrs. Beaumont herself stepped from behind the counter and smiled warmly at him.

"Welcome to my establishment Mr. Grayson," she greeted him with the ease of an old friend, even though they had barely spoken before. He took her gloved hand and politely kissed its back.

"It is good to see you, Mrs. Beaumont," he replied with the Grayson smile. "Unfortunately, I do not come for leisure."

Bruce loved his women quick of mind. Mrs. Beaumont was no exception.

"Of course," she said. "Your _employer_ sent you I suppose?"

She led him in the back of the tea shop, away from prying ears. For propriety's sake, they stood in view of the clients, but Richard turned his back on them in case some would read his lips.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "I am here to inquire about a young lady." Mrs. Beaumont became guarded. He hastily added: "My godfather is very fond of her, unusually so, and I want to make sure she is…proper before encouraging him to pursue a courtship."

Mrs. Beaumont stared at him in shock. _Bruce Wayne_ and _courtship_ rarely fit in the same sentence when _he_ stood as the pursuer.

"Would it be this Miss Troy people are speaking of?" she hazarded. Richard nodded in agreement. "Well that is somewhat unexpected. I heard she wants nothing to do with him. She has rebuffed him quite a few times in both public and private events. I am surprised you have not heard of it."

Jilted, eh? Perhaps _that_ was the reason why Bruce seemed so inclined to pursue her.

"My godfather and I do not attend the same parties," he replied instead. "We would rather divide and conquer each our own unless a united front is necessary. That is another reason why I suspect attachment on his part; had she been another potential conquest, he would have lamented of his failures and progresses to me. I have not been made aware of the lady's existence until recently."

Mrs. Beaumont pursed her lips.

"Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you what I know about the family." She paused momentarily. "The father is a Greek Lord dabbling in trade, quite successfully at that. His first wife died from a horse accident. He remarried two years later to the second daughter of a Mr. Callaghan. Mr. Troy's family has remained in Greece, for I understand there has been an irremediable schism between him and his brothers. Mrs. Troy has a female relation further north, although I am unsure whether it is an unmarried sister left in _disgrace_ or a close second cousin. Mr. and Mrs. Troy have four children, Miss Diana is the eldest at twenty, a very lovely young woman by all accounts. Her twin brother Mr. Jason is the heir. He has an honorable reputation, although he is known to be a little impulsive. Miss Donna, the second daughter –eighteen this year and officially coming out, often sits here with her maid when her father comes to London for business. The youngest, Miss Lyla is fragile of health and rarely leaves Themyscira."

Richard hummed as he considered the information. The family sounded respectable according to Mrs. Beaumont's account. Still, he would appreciate to meet one of them to set his opinion firmly. From experience, the middle children always relayed the most accurate description of their siblings. By luck, the very middle child he might want to interact with often came _here_.

"Would you terribly mind to send for me, should Miss Donna return in the next few days? I will be mostly staying at the Wayne town house."

Mrs. Beaumont narrowed her eyes, as if she could read through his soul.

"I will send a boy," she conceded eventually. "But I will not introduce you. In that matter, you will have to fend for yourself -although knowing Mr. Wayne, he must have taught you how to catch a lady's attention." She paused and smiled, somewhat amused. "The women of this family are quite unique. I am certain you will find Miss Donna delightfully diverting." Her smile fell and her expression became quite severe. "Do remember I will not tolerate indecent behavior in my establishment, Mr. Grayson. Conversation is the only amusement I will allow inside these walls."

Richard had lost his mother at a tender age, but had she been alive, he suspected she might have stared at him in the same way.

"With such a guardian, Madam, the ladies of this tea shop are quite safe from my evil ways," he promised with a little wink. Mrs. Beaumont smiled again and wished him a good day. He left the room with another tip of the hat for the ladies, and felt quite gratified at the revival of blushing cheeks, the giggling and discreet waves on his way out.

POP

"Are you still lost in your memories, Mr. Wayne?"

The sultry, purring voice of Selina Kyle caressed his ear. Her hand ran down his bare shoulder and he could feel the curve of her breasts pressed against his back. Her arms came around his stomach as a warm embrace –or perhaps a little possessive. She always showed a little possessiveness, _beforehand_. He let her hold him, let her hand move up to trace the line of his pectoral, then down to his stomach and lower still.

"It's nothing," he muttered.

Bruce's day had gone as he expected. His meeting with his partners brought nothing noteworthy. His business was still flourishing for now, everyone seemed content with the situation and his most recent investments had paid off. Still, he hadn't been quite able to focus completely. Even though the meetings had confirmed the stability of his situation, the tension produced by his nightmare had yet to be evacuated. Even visiting his favorite mistress was providing little relief.

"It is not nothing," she protested. "Else you would be more open to me." Her hand touched the most sensible part of his body. "Allow me."

And so there he was, standing naked next to the bed with no prompt desire to join it. Selina wrapped her fingers around his length and he closed his eyes. Her attentions might distract him, but as he grew aroused, it wasn't her face that appeared in his mind. Instead of the lithe, brown-haired woman currently guiding him down on the mattress, it was a curvy, raven-haired woman with sharp dark eyes that was slowly easing herself onto him.

 _Diana_ was warm and soft and wet with desire. He grabbed her hips, roughly pulled her down, his eyes still closed. For the duration of their intercourse, _Diana_ hovered over him, moving to meet his thrusts. He imagined the throaty sounds coming from her lovely mouth. His fingers dug in her thighs, while his other hand reached out blindly for the round breast and squeezed. _Diana_ gasped and pressed her chest in response, moving faster and harder. She moaned his name as she trembled, ecstasy shaking her body as he reached his own peak.

She moved off him, and reality returned along with bitter disappointment.

"Well then," Selina spoke with the voice of a woman who had been pleasantly satisfied. "This was quite diverting."

Bruce held back the urge to snort. His body had relaxed a little but his mind remained in turmoil. He needed to leave, soon, else he would say something short and unpleasant and be shoved out the door by her burly groom.

He left the bed, grabbed his breeches, shirt and boots. Once he was presentable, he turned to bid goodbye. His mistress had turned on her side, facing him with her head resting upon her hand. She looked pensive and he wondered if she had sensed the growing disinterest. _Of course she had_ , he thought grimly. Selina was a beautiful, elegant and highly intelligent woman. She had climbed into society using her charms and had made herself known in the highest circles as a well-courted and expensive courtesan. Reading her lovers' mood helped her survive. She _would_ notice he was distancing himself.

"Do you have a new mistress?" she asked bluntly.

Coming from another, Bruce would have not tolerated this impertinence. But he had known Selina four years now, had been her protector for nearly twice as long. In some ways, she knew him better than himself. Very few could make that claim.

"No," he replied briefly. His eyes lingered on the curve of the white breast that peeked from under the covers. The woman sighed and rolled on her back. The covers lowered down her chest –a deliberate move. With the knowledge the body on display was not Diana's, he barely felt any reaction.

"Whatever you say Mr. Wayne," she replied. "Shall I expect you back in a few months' time?"

Whenever another lady struck his fancy, Bruce tended to abandon her, but eventually, he always returned to her. This time though, he thought it might be different. As he left without saying goodbye, he made a mental not to set up the amount of money they had agreed on, should he effectively end their contract. He was not likely to return to her again.

 _That would please Richard_ , he thought with vague amusement. _That boy has never liked Selina._

His coachman hopped off his seat and opened the carriage door.

"Off to the Wayne Town House, sir?"

Bruce wasn't in the mood to return to the town house. He had no imperative for the next few days.

"Off to the Wayne _country_ house," he ordered. "It is it time I return to Gotham."

If the coachman was startled by the new destination, he didn't let it show. Instead, he closed the door once his master was seated, returned to his seat, and hurried the horses forward.

His great grandfather had bought Gotham Manor, this large propriety an hour away from London, to attempt to become a landowner. His investment had turned out precarious at best: working the land needed more focus than he had anticipated, and he had enough responsibilities in the city. The estate had been neglected for decades before Thomas Wayne decided to endorse his responsibility towards the tenants and focus on the land.

Bruce had grown in between two worlds, amongst the traditional farmers and the growing industry. His personal talent tipped closer to trade, but he would not neglect his childhood home. The trustworthy steward who had been hired by his father, Mr. Fox, directed his staff in his absence and took care of the most urgent business. While the Wayne town house was occupied most of the time, Gotham was his home.

Alfred would likely be irritated at his impulse. He would need to send word to warn Richard of his absence too. But he desperately longed for solitude, away from society and its stiffness. And most importantly, he needed time away from Miss Troy too. He could think less and less clearly whenever she stood in the same room. His eyes sought her every move, his ear strained to hear her laugh and humiliating enough, he tended to follow her like a wolf on an appetizing trail…or a puppy yearning for her attentions.

 _Pathetic_ , he thought soberly.

 _Lovesick_ , chanted a small voice, this time eerily similar to Richard's.

"That is enough," he muttered out loud and made himself comfortable. He had a long ride ahead of him, and soon enough, he drifted to sleep.

There were no dreams this time, and he was roused from sleep by his coachman yelling curses. Given his employee's usually moderate temper, Bruce hit the roof to catch the man's attention.

"What happened?" he asked loudly.

"Two reckless young riders, sir," was the reply. "Frightened the horses with their speed; that they did!"

"Oh," he said. "Well then, carry on."

He sat back on his chair and watched the scenery outside. Once they were out of the woods, his manor would be half an hour away. He couldn't wait to reach the place and settle himself for a well-deserved rest.

No annoying partner knocking at his door for a conversation, no tradesman seeking for patronage, no party or ball and no Miss T-

The carriage came to a brutal halt. This time, Bruce did not wait to ask for the reason of this stop and reached the door before his coach could even order to move forward.

"What is-"

Whatever he intended to say was soon forgotten. In the middle of the road, two horses were grinding grass while a young woman was standing in the way of the coach. Her dark hair was not covered by a bonnet and her usually impeccable dress seemed far too ruffled. He did not need more than a second to recognize her.

"Miss Troy?" he blurted in shock.

Miss Troy – _damn it, it was her_ – stared at him with wide eyes.

"Mr. Wayne?" she uttered in turn, clearly stunned. She looked distressed and at loss. He immediately stepped closer, reminding himself not to stand _too_ close. Then he eyed her dress –little scratches, mud on the helm and her gloves –was that blood?

"Miss Troy, are you hurt?" he asked, immediately took her hand for a closer look. It was indeed blood. The thought of anyone laying his hand on her made _his_ blood boil.

"I –" she started, still staring at him in bewilderment. "I –my brother." She seemed to regain her senses. "My brother –he's hurt. There was –we were racing you see, it has been so long since we were just together and –and whatever happened our horses –our horses were frightened and he was thrown off the saddle and hit his head and-"

Bruce sincerely hoped she would not burst into tears. He was not unfamiliar with crying women per say, but something told him watching this particular lady crying would make him incredibly uncomfortable. Thankfully, she breathed in deeply and got ahold of herself. She met his gaze straightforwardly, and he was viciously reminded why she attracted him. She was scared but her eyes met his without hesitation and her voice sounded clear when she spoke next:

"My brother is injured. Please Mr. Wayne, I need your help."

POP

Diana stared at the flames burning in the chimney. Half an hour ago, Mr. Wayne had brought her and Jason to the Gotham manor. The surgeon had been called quickly and Jason brought to a chamber to be tended in peace. Diana had been led by a kind but firm housekeeper to a comfortable dining room where a cup of tea was shoved into her hands and cakes were promised. She could care less for the food, but had been reminded that her presence would hinder more than help the surgeon's work. Diana had only relented once she was assured she would be called for once her brother's treatment was over.

And so she remained seated in the most expensive couch she had ever seen, careful not to accidentally tip her cup and stain the fabric with a drop of tea. Mr. Wayne had not shown yet, but she felt certain that he would eventually come in due time.

Tired of waiting, she decided to take a turn about the room. As the daughter of a foreign aristocrat, she had received invitations from many families in the neighborhood. There had been various status of wealth amongst them, and yet even the richest did not come close to the elegance of Gotham manor. The furniture was expensive but not flaunting, the few paintings on the walls seemed to belong. The large ticking grandfather clock stood proudly next to the window. In the background, she could see the lands expanding behind the propriety. A clear path disappeared into the forest bordering the manor's yard.

Diana admired the design of it all. The inside, or the little she had seen, showed excellent taste. The outside was well cared for. She wondered if Mr. Wayne had a hand in the decoration of the house, or if the former owners had set the tone.

"Miss Troy?"

Diana startled a little upon hearing her name. Said Mr. Wayne had entered the room without her noticing. She immediately hurried by his side.

"Any news?" she breathed, hoping for anything.

"My surgeon is done tending him. Your brother has a swell under his head and is still unconscious. Mr. Tompkins believes the next few days will be important for his recovery. He will either wake, or not at all. I dispatched a servant to your father's house with a note. Lord Troy will know his eldest children are under my protection for a fortnight."

"A fortnight?" she echoed, stunned.

Mr. Wayne held her stare without blinking.

"Your brother's health will not permit him to be moved easily or anytime soon. He will stay here. I assumed you would want to remain by his side."

The tension left her shoulders and Diana breathed a little easier.

"You assumed correctly," she whispered. "Forgive my rudeness."

"I understand." He paused. "I shall show you your room."

"I would rather remain with my brother; I wish to be there if anything happens. A small cot will do, I just want…I want to be there."

Upon their first meeting, Diana remembered thinking this man had beautiful, expressive eyes. Those same eyes settled upon her. She felt rooted to the ground, incapable of looking away. The irresistible charm was drawing her in again. Why couldn't she think of anything else but his presence whenever she stood alone with him?

"If that is your desire," he replied, and had his voice ever sounded so husky before? She felt a shiver run down her spine. Her mouth suddenly tinkled in memory of how his lips had felt against her own. Her eyes drifted to his mouth before returning to his face. That same mouth twisted into a smug grin, as if he knew what had been crossing her mind. She forced herself to breathe, to remember that she was not in a small office but in that man's very home. _Now was not the time_ , she chided herself. Jason was fighting for his life and there she stood, pondering over Mr. Wayne's attractiveness like a fresh debutante.

And then he stepped forward, and Diana reflexively took a step back. The smug smile remained.

"This situation is familiar, is it not?" he remarked. At his next step, she did not move and determinedly stared back. Once again, he stood far too close for comfort. Diana could almost feel the heat of his body so close to hers.

"And you claimed you would not seduce me?" she said breathlessly. Mr. Wayne blinked slowly, the same languorous, _heated_ gaze firmly set on her. It did not escape her notice that his eyes flickered to her mouth in turn.

"And I am the last man you would share your life with?"

Her heart pounded in her chest. She was a tall woman for common standards, few men towered her, aside from her father. Mr. Wayne though, was taller in a way she found most infuriating and attractive.

" _My_ mind has not changed," she whispered, and hated that her voice trembled. He leant forward, his face stopped inches away from hers. Should he move a little, he would kiss her.

"Nor has mine," he whispered in turn, his breath a caress on her skin.

And then he pulled back so unexpectedly, she nearly gasped for air.

"I will ask for a bed to be installed in your brother's room," he said. Had she not been so distracted, she might have noted the tremor in his voice. "Come with me, I will lead you there."

 _Jason_ , she thought guiltily. She cleared her mind and took the arm he offered. Her brother needed her support; she ought to give him her full attention. Mr. Wayne and his attentions would have to wait. Diana prayed she would be strong enough to hold onto that.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Price of Pride**

 **5**

The Troy family had had a quiet afternoon. With the elders gone, the youngest daughters had focused fully on their own activities in peace. They had elected to sit in the sibling room together, Donna lost in her drawing and Lyla lost in her new correspondence. Donna had chosen a seat by the window where the light was best at this time of the day, and thus had the privilege to view the visitor's yard.

When the rider stormed through the gates, she was the first to notice. At first she did not give a care, too focused on finishing her sketch. And yet, something in the newcomer's manner caught her eye. She sensed urgency and put down her pencil. Her father had demanded not to be bothered; her mother had gone in the early afternoon to visit aunt Menalippe at the other end of the country and would not return for days, Jason and Diana had taken their horses for a ride and had yet returned. Should a member of the family be requested, the staff would come for her. She stood from her seat, arranged her dress and hair properly. Her actions distracted Lyla in turn.

"Is something the matter?" the youngest Troy sibling inquired with curiosity. She peeked through the window to glance in the courtyard. "A visitor?"

"I am not certain," Donna replied. "But as our parents and beloved elders are absent, I might as well see for myself."

The blonde girl rose from her seat.

"I will come too," she said and added before Donna could protest: "I shall stand in the back and not bother you, I promise."

As she spoke those words, a discreet knock was heard against the door. After Donna granted entrance, the housekeeper appeared, her expression uneasy.

"Miss Donna," she said. "A footman from Gotham has a letter from Lord Troy. He means to give him in person."

The master had explicitly ordered not to be disturbed, and no-one would dare contradict him unless it was an emergency, or a direct order from a member of his family. Donna kept a mask of serene confidence and stepped forward.

"I shall see to him."

The housekeeper nodded and stepped aside to let the ladies pass. While she advanced to meet their impromptu visitor, Donna tried to calm her racing heart. Gotham was an estate bordering their lands and belonged to none other than Mr. Wayne; the same Mr. Wayne who seemed to cultivate an interest in her elder sister. Donna had always thought the situation quite diverting; his flirting never failed to raise Diana's ire and an irked Diana was most fun to tease. The fun would not last should she be caught unwillingly in a compromising position. She prayed the note did not contain the news of her sister's forced engagement to that man.

The messenger stood in the parlor, his clothes of good quality and his attitude aloof, as a highly paid servant ought to be. He bowed upon Donna's arrival.

"My father is held back in his office," she said after the customary greetings were exchanged. "I have to ask is the matter is urgent, for he will not leave on a whim."

"Mr. Wayne demanded I bring the letter to Lord Troy," he replied coolly, but politely. "I cannot leave without seeing my duty through."

"Did something happen to our sister?"

Donna nearly jumped, having already forgotten Lyla's presence in her back. The blonde girl shyly glimpsed from behind her sister, as if wary of strangers. The messenger's features softened, most likely believing Lyla to be younger than she appeared. While Donna knew her younger sister was not as frail as she seemed, she was glad it played in their favor today.

"You sister is fine, Miss," he replied. "But your brother had an accident and is currently being tended by Mr. Wayne's physician."

Donna dropped her mouth open, stunned. She heard Lyla gasp quietly. Quickly recovering, she nodded towards a maid who departed immediately.

"Will he recover?" Donna inquired shakily.

"Mr. Wayne's surgeon is one of the best of the country," the man went on confidentially. "He is in good hands."

"Who is in good hands?" Both sisters jumped this time; Hadrian Troy had arrived in the parlor, looking quite put-off. "I heard the commotion outside and came across panicked servants on the way. You have something for me from your master, they say?"

The messenger bowed and handed him the letter.

"I am to wait for an answer," he said simply.

Hadrian did not retire to his office to open the letter and read the contents. Donna watched, helplessly, as the more he read, the more his skin paled. She watched as he folded the paper in silence, his hands shaking with the slightest tremor, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Fools," he whispered. " _Fools_ , both of them." He turned towards Donna. "Fetch a maid and gather clothes for your siblings. They are likely to stay at Gotham for a fortnight. Warn Io she will be departing too; I do not want Diana left without a chaperon for so long. Charon, bring this man to the kitchen for a meal while he waits. I have a letter to write."

Upon these words, he stormed back into the corridors, most likely to his office. The two sisters exchanged a glance, and both executed what had been demanded of them. Within moments, clothes were enclosed in a trunk and carried downstairs. Hadrian returned with his letter, his skin even whiter than before. Donna stood on the threshold, her hands clenched tightly. Her father and Lyla stood by her as they watched the messenger depart to Gotham with the maid in the carriage. Her younger sister reached for her hand. Donna unclenched her fingers and squeezed hers with more reassurance than she felt. Only when the carriage had disappeared from view that she noted something else was wrong.

Hadrian Troy's breathing was…odd. His skin still white, his hands trembling, and he sounded like-

The huge body tumbled down, nearly toppling over Lyla. Donna shrieked in surprise before kneeling by her father's side.

"Help!" she shouted, although two footmen were already joining her. "Call the physician, quick! And bring him to his rooms!"

The staff obeyed promptly. Hadrian Troy was supported by three footmen as he was carried away, and Donna knew she would remember forever the helplessness she felt and the gnawing fear events were turning for the worse.

POP

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce did not break his concentration. His eyes remained determinedly fixated on the spot they had found Jason Troy the previous afternoon. He had wanted to visit the place early so he would not be bothered by coaches or riders too soon.

"Mr. Wayne."

Bruce reluctantly looked away from the patch of crushed weeds to meet his steward's eye. Mr. Fox stood on the other side of the path, watching his employer with a dubitative stare.

"What are you expecting to find, sir?"

At first, he did not reply. Instead, he glanced back at the spot where Jason Troy had fallen. Then, he glanced back at Fox.

"Would you be so kind to stand over there?" he asked, and pointed at a specific place across the path.

Still dubious, the steward nonetheless complied. Bruce stepped back onto the road.

"Does young Mr. Troy often ride by these parts?" he asked.

"Yes, yes I believe he does," Mr. Fox replied patiently.

"How do you know?"

The steward narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"He is often seen riding at this hour, every few days. He does not make it a secret that he often rides to free himself from everyday worries. He favors much this path."

"So this is general or easily acquired knowledge."

Mr. Fox agreed. Bruce hummed and glanced around once again.

"Humor me, Mr Fox, but would you ride down to the curve," he pointed further down the road. "And gallop back here?"

The steward climbed back upon his horse and took off. In the meantime, Bruce tugged the reins of his own horse and guided him under the trees. He tied him to a low branch and crouched behind a large trunk. The crocked angle was perfect to observe the road without standing uncomfortably. Moments later, Mr. Fox galloped back. Bruce saw him arrive from afar and stood very still. He watched in silence as his employee slowed his mount and looked around, slightly at loss.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce remained still a little more. His horse did not move either, ears twitching, eyeing him with curiosity. Eventually, he took pity on the confused man and left his hideout.

"I am here, Mr. Fox."

The man dismounted and headed towards the sound of his employer's voice. Bruce stood and walked out of his hiding place.

"Forgive me sir, for a moment, I thought-"

"You thought I had left, you did not see me," Bruce concluded.

The steward started smiling. And then he stopped. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, questioning his employer silently. Bruce gave him the answer he was expecting.

"Jason Troy has a reputation of being an excellent horseman," he said slowly. "Him and Miss Troy, actually. Both are reasonable people. Young Mr. Troy might be impulsive; he would not race carelessly on unknown paths. And even if he did, Miss Troy would never follow him in a foolish action."

"You believe Mr. Troy's accident may have not been an accident after all?"

Bruce hummed, thinking.

"Lord Troy has just introduced his son as his heir to his business partners," he started slowly. "Perhaps I am reading too much into this situation, but the coincidence is…troubling."

"An instinct, Mr. Wayne?"

"Something like that." He returned towards his horse and mounted it again. "We should return to Gotham manor, I have yet caught up with my letters –and we still need to discuss your reports. And I want a word with Tompkins."

"Of course, sir," Mr. Fox said pleasantly. "I am certain Miss Troy will be gratified to see you care about her brother's welfare."

Bruce replied nothing, although he sensed his cheeks grow warm.

"If an act of grievous mischief has occurred on my lands, it is my duty to remedy to it," he pointed out grumpily. "Miss Troy's opinion has nothing to do with it."

His steward wisely kept his mouth shut.

They rode away, firmly intending to start their first round of visits. While Bruce did not often return to Gotham, he certainly did not want to be painted as a neglectful landlord. The tenants knew him, although they reported more frequently to Mr. Fox, but showed some gratefulness at not being forgotten. They were, after all, well aware that in case of crisis, his investments in town would be used to help his role in the countryside. As his steward was the efficient kind, Bruce did not have to linger much. He did agree to share a glass of the latest wine, offered his congratulations for the recent birth of triplets –which all three had survived their first weeks –and his condolences for a recent loss. He oversaw the latest repairs made for the village, agreed to finance the construction of a new bridge, and made his mandatory stop at the orphanage.

The building had been built under Thomas Wayne's ownership, and had at first served as a school. The school still existed, but Bruce had expanded it to welcome the orphans and children people could no longer care for. Boys and girls did not live a grand life, but they were fed three times a day, given proper clothing and taught their way into adulthood. He both enjoyed and hated stopping there. The children would greet him with various degrees of cheerfulness –they all knew to whom they owed their situation –but the despair on some faces, especially the most recent arrivals, always broke his heart. Alfred had once teased that he would have adopted them all, should this action not threaten to rip his legacy into pieces. Richard had been the one exception, and Bruce knew the young man felt the weight of everyone's expectation ever since he had become a permanent fixture in his household.

Once again, he met with the crowd of children, most of them he recognized, a few of them he did not. The girls were pressed to show him their new accomplishments, the boys wanted to impress him with the recent lessons learned. They asked him countless questions, eager for his attentions. One of the little ones even boldly asked if he would soon be married. The question was followed by whispers of reproach and hushes, but Bruce only smiled and said something smart to divert the attention.

He certainly did not think of a certain raven-haired woman on the spot. He even less thought of how she had reacted to his closeness, the very previous day. Taunting, almost daring, and at the same time responding far too easily.

And he also did not thought of how torturous her presence would be once he returned to Wayne Manor. Seeing her in his house, his _home_ , trying not to picture her as a permanent fixture, trying not to _long_ for her as a permanent fixture…Bruce's thoughts derived to his other guest, the young Jason. The young heir had made his debuts barely a month ago. The Troys had many business partners as well as enemies, but none he knew that would go as far as to attempt to murder him.

Perhaps it was conjecture at this point, but he wanted no place left for doubt. He needed information before taking a decision. Information cost time and money, but the person he had in mind had been growing restless lately, and would be a perfect cover. He smirked slightly, anticipating already old Perry's glare the next time the two men would meet. He was about to send his darling niece on another trail.

POP

Diana had barely slept a wink. The loyal Io had stood by her side, keeping vigil when she felt herself faltering. Jason had always been an agitated sleeper, twitching and turning in his sleep. She was not used watching him so _still_.

"Mr. Thompkins is optimistic about his recovery," Io suddenly blurted. Diana nearly jumped at the sound of her voice. "The blood was less alarming than it appeared to be. He was very lucky."

The young woman sighed heavily and nodded in acknowledgment. She knew, of course, that Jason had avoided the worse by a margin. They had ridden down that road for years without encountering any trouble. How could they have turned so carless?

"I was surprised your accident happened at all, Miss," she went on, as if reading her thoughts. "The young master and you know these roads well."

"Not well enough, it seems," Diana muttered. She suddenly felt too confined in this room. Exhaustion and guilt gave her shivers and made her feel uncomfortable. She stood from her seat. "I need to walk; my legs are a little stiff." Io started to stand. "Please stay, I will not be long, and someone needs to watch over him."

"I am not to leave your side, Miss Troy," she countered.

"I will not be long," she repeated, more severely this time. While she appreciated Io's show of loyalty, she truly needed to be alone. Standing by Jason for over a little day without being able to see to his comfort was growing on her nerves. The physician had repeated incessantly that she needed to be patient and wait, but she couldn't stand sitting all day long. Reading had not improved her mood, and Io, while far from idiotic, had not much conversation. She ought to write to the family to keep them informed –she might apply for paper and a pen when she stumbled upon a servant.

Without waiting for a response, she promptly left the room. The corridors were empty when she stepped in them but she did not doubt people were at work. Every surface was clean, almost to a fault. She had noticed that yesterday as Mr. Wayne guided her to Jason's rooms. He had also offered her a tour of the house, which she had declined out of worry for her brother. Within the next few days, she would have to ask him to renew his offer, for she had underestimated the size of the manor, and did not want to spend her time asking her way around. So far, he had not required her to share his table for meals and assured her trays would be sent to her room.

Diana had never dealt well with confinement. Even as a sick child, she attempted to run through the corridors. Jason usually denounced her within minutes –if the nanny didn't catch her before, and Persephone's scolding kept her in place for half a day until she tried another escape. Her legs were already cramped and she walked energetically down the corridor and reached the nearest door. She emerged in a small yard, on the side of the manor. From her position, she could see the main entrance on the left and the path leading to the gardens on her right.

She did not hesitate and engaged towards the greenery. The gardens were well kept and the blooming flowers smelt really good. The sound of horses caught her attention and encouraged her to wander further down the lane. She was not surprised to spy the outing of the stables and hear the huff of horses.

"Miss Troy, good morning."

She jumped, startled, and somewhat was not surprised to meet with Mr. Wayne dressed in a smart riding equipment, looking every bit the wealthy man he was, walking in her direction. His hair was slightly ruffled though, something she found particularly endearing. She wondered where he had come from and discreetly glanced around.

"There is a shortcut right there," he pointed at the small between two walls behind him. "Someone mentioned you were wandering in the back, so as a dutiful host, I had to come and greet you."

His smile was charming as always and in spite of the smell, he was quite alluring.

"Have you returned from a ride, sir?" she inquired.

"My steward indulges me when I ask to visit the tenants. My presence is not necessary, but I want to let them know that I don't forget about them, not even when I am locked up in London."

Diana smiled, although she would not admit it out loud, she was genuinely impressed by his thoughtfulness. She knew the role of a landowner was very different from the one of a businessman in trade, and yet, he seemed to take both very seriously. No matter his promiscuity, no-one could accuse him of neglectfulness.

"How is your brother this morning?"

She lost her smile.

"Still unmoving and not responding but Mr. Thompkins is optimistic," she replied, echoing Io's words. "He encouraged me to read aloud to keep his mind stimulated."

Bruce nodded.

"Mr. Thompkins is an experienced physicist and Mrs. Thompkins was the late apothecary's eldest daughter. Your brother is in excellent hands."

"I know. I can't thank you enough for the care he is receiving."

"Think nothing of it," he replied and offered his arm to her. "Should I escort you around the house? You had little time to explore it yet."

Diana hesitated. Her first instinct had been to refuse, as Jason was still lying still and she ought to return soon by his side. On the other hand, she had not walked that much and her legs inched for exercise.

"May we keep the exploring outside and short?" she asked as she took his arm. "I am certain you have much work to attend, and I was not intending to stray away for long."

"What the lady desires, she may have," he replied gallantly.

While they toured the gardens, he explained their history, pointed out some improvements his father had made as well as his own personal touch. She listened to him, captivated by his knowledge and the genuine pleasure he had in showing her his home. It was obvious that duty was not his sole motivator for the country house. He loved this second home, with good reason.

"Themyscira is so recent compared to Gotham," she said eventually. "My father renovated it entirely when he settled in England and gave it its name. I hope it will build its history as well as this place. It used to be an old manor that had burned to the ground, but he took particular care to improve it and imported the Greek style." She frowned slightly. "I don't mind, but I wonder why he made such a choice. He self-exiled from Greece and refuses to speak of his native country. He claims the political climate is growing too tense for him, and that his family ought not to have mingled with the higher spheres so much. He is firmly implanted in England, why should he…" Diana flushed as she realized she had been rambling. "I apologize; you must not find my conversation exceedingly passionate."

"Miss Troy," he retorted. "I have just spent the last quarter hour gushing about _my_ _own_ family history. Your conversation will never bore me." She eyed him quizzically, wondering if he was merely being polite or being sincere. "I do have books on the prominent families in Europe; perhaps your parents' family name is amongst them."

She blinked, stunned at this turn. While she had felt a little embarrassed to speak so freely, she felt grateful he did not seem to hold her lack of propriety around him. Come to think of it, he always seemed…amused when she discarded etiquette in his company.

"Truly?" he nodded solemnly. "Then I shall accept your offer."

They kept walking a few moments more, before she reluctantly reminded him of her duties. Mr. Wayne walked her back to her brother's room with, surprisingly, the same contrite expression on his face. Once she was safely behind closed doors, Io gave her a meaningful glare. Diana rolled her eyes, sat next to Jason's side and resumed reading out loud the book she had started.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Price of Pride**

 **6**

 _I am not a goddamn courier,_ Richard thought thunderously as his horse rode through the impressive gates of Themyscira.

Three days ago, his mission to uncover more of the Troy's history had fallen flat with the express sent by his godfather. After returning to his country home on a whim, Bruce had apparently taken in the Troy heir and his sister after both had a riding accident. Now, the two siblings would be staying under his protection for the following days, until Jason Troy's remission. Richard had then decided he would wash his hands of the situation. After all, his godfather was a grown man and could make his own decisions. If he wanted the young lady to remain under his roof and risk rumors, he could deal with it.

Very early this morning, he had received another express from Bruce, asking him to stop by Themiscyra to deliver important news. Though Richard understood the need for secrecy after reading the letter, he still did not enjoy having to leave at early morning to pay a visit to complete strangers. No matter if they might become his family in a close future.

He paid no heed to the beautiful scenery around him, far too eager to deliver his message and ride back to Gotham manor. The presence of the Troy siblings had quelled his urge to join his godfather at first. No matter if he suddenly arched to escape the city, he needed _not_ to invade Bruce's flirting turf. And yet, he was returning with an open invitation. Curiosity could not be held back. His mission was clear: deliver the message and return to the country manor. With some luck, he would be seated in his favorite chair by the fire by the end of the day.

He slowed his horse as they approached the mansion. Workers came and went, greeting him with a light nod as he trotted past them. Upon arriving by the main door, he spotted two young ladies walking down the alley leading from the gardens back to the house. Richard dismounted and boldly walked ahead. The stallion followed him like the perfectly trained horse he was. As he approached, he couldn't help but admire their form. The younger sister, a pretty blonde with big eyes, watched him approach warily. The older sister, a brunette with curves and curls, held his attention longer. Their eyes met and for a brief moment, he cursed himself for not stalking Mrs. Beaumont's tea salon earlier.

"Good morning Miss Troy," he addressed the dark-haired beauty first before turning to her sister. "And Miss Troy." The two girls curtsied in return. "We have not been introduced, but I am afraid circumstances won't permit it, so I shall introduce myself. Richard Grayson, at your service."

"Grayson?" the blonde said while the brunette raised her eyebrow at the same time: "Mr. Wayne's godson?"

He was grateful they knew him by reputation. It would make discussions easier.

"I am here on behalf of my godfather," he announced next. It pained him to see the ladies suddenly rapt with attention. The eagerness in their eyes was…heartbreaking. "He sent good news, your brother is awake and aware."

Miss Donna sighed deeply in relief while Lyla's cheeks regained colors.

"He will live then?" the eldest inquired. "Good. I was afraid my bluff would not be credible."

Miss Lyla dug her elbow in her sister's side. The older sister winced and flushed at her slip, whatever that was.

"Your bluff?" he repeated, curious.

The two sisters exchanged a glance. Eventually, Miss Donna gave in and explained:

"Mr. Luthor seemed every eager to meet with our brother. I hinted he was temporarily ill. I am glad it is actually true."

Richard frowned uncomfortably.

"Mr. Luthor came here?" he repeated. Both girls nodded.

"The morning before today, precisely," the elder said.

"He seemed happy that Jason could not receive him," Lyla added. "But he grew cold when Donna hinted it was temporary. He left as soon as Mr. Charon appeared."

 _Bad news indeed_ , the young man thought uneasily. It seemed that his godfather's instincts might have served him well again. After a moment of inner debate, he announced:

"I came to speak to your father."

The two girls exchanged embarrassed glances.

"Father is…not well," the youngest confessed. "Ever since he read the letter about Diana and Jason's misadventures, his chest hurts terribly when he is awake."

"Mother is to return very soon," Miss Donna took over. "Lyla and I usually keep watch, but he encouraged us to take a breath of fresh air."

 _Oh-ho_ , Richard thought. The situation might be worse than anticipated.

"You told nothing of this to your sister?" he inquired.

Another glance shared between the girls.

"We thought it would be better for people to assume our father and brother are to return soon. If Diana welcomed guests, it would raise questions. On the other hand, if I keep up appearances, visitors will believe their absence to be a temporary situation. Everyone in Town knows our sister would never leave the family in time of need, and Jason's condition has been efficiently quieted."

Richard stared at the young woman in awe. She could not be older than eighteen, and was already making sensible decisions when the customary leaders of the family were absent.

"You are very brave to act as you do," he said. "Although why you would admit this to _me_ , I have to wonder."

"My sister is in Mr. Wayne's care. You are very much aware of the situation my family is in," Miss Donna replied calmly.

"I could pretend to be Richard Grayson," he pointed out.

Miss Lyla suddenly looked worried. Miss Donna didn't even flinch.

"No-one knows where my siblings are, and one would be a fool not to recognize you." She spoke the words calmly, but he still spotted her reddening ears. Richard wondered with amusement if she had only pretended not to recognize him. "Now that you tell us Jason is awake and will recover, she needs to know what is truly going on. Will you go to Wayne Manor later today?"

Richard pondered over his next course of action. Bruce had underlined the importance of the message he was supposed to carry out.

"I most likely will. I am truly sorry ladies, but I truly must speak to your father."

Donna shook her head.

"As I told you, his health is very bad. If you bring bad news, better tell me. If he can sustain another shock, I shall announce it to him myself."

She stared at Lyla. The blonde girl pouted but took the hint. She stepped away, keeping close enough to play a chaperon yet not overhear their conversation. Miss Donna was bold, he had to give her that. Perhaps he ought to care for his own attitude; he did not want to leave a poor impression.

 _Why would I think such a thing?_ He wondered, annoyed at himself. _It's not like I am trying to get into her good graces or anything. She's just a…comely young lady. And I am a young man. With Bruce Wayne as a mentor. Who has excellent taste in women. And Miss Donna is-_

"Please Mr. Grayson, can you truly not say anything?"

Richard stared at her and thought she had remarkable eyes. He could not quite make their color, but he knew they were the finest he had ever seen. And right now, they stared back at him unflinchingly and anxiously. Damn, he could not lie to such an earnest expression. And if her father might not stand a second shock…oh well. Bruce would not thank him for injuring Lord Troy. He might as well tell her. Perhaps she might need comfort afterwards. And he had plenty of practice at comfort. He would never take advantage of an aristocrat's daughter, of course, but indulging in charming company could do no harm, now could it?

"You see," he began, "my godfather believes Jason's accident wasn't truly one…"

POP

Diana had been reading for the past hour, keeping a distracted eye on Jason as he slept again. He had woken once or twice already, but she could not find the strength to leave his side until he returned fully conscious. Mr. Thompkins' assurance that he would recover his wits did make her feel better, but she still resented the waiting. A light knock on her door disrupted her concentration, and Mr. Wayne's head popped in.

"Richard –my godson –just arrived from Themyscira. He brought back letters for you." He pushed the door open and stepped in. Io sat straighter, a severe expression on her face. Diana ignored her in favor of the letters he was holding.

She stood and closed the distance between them in a few steps. They had not often met in the past three days, as she took her meals in her brother's room and he was often away on his own business. Still, Diana always anticipated the few moments they found themselves together. Though he still flirted with her, their conversations were friendly and perfectly acceptable. The lack of proper chaperon could be somewhat unsettling, but they never stood alone. A maid or a footman would always find something to do wherever they stood and Io would keep a severe eye whenever he entered Jason's bedroom.

"They are from your sisters and father. I hope you find good news," he added as she took the letters.

Her fingers brushed his bare hands in a split-second contact. Diana schooled her features the best she could and thanked him heartily. Mr. Wayne walked back out, but not without sending her a wink before closing the door. If looks could burn, the poor man would have turned into a pile of ashes under Io's scandalized glare.

"He is taking far too many liberties with you, Miss Troy," the woman pointed out haughtily. "And you are allowing him to!"

"Mr. Wayne flirts a lot, but I am quite safe from him." Diana retorted. "You ought to remember he has welcomed and tended to Jason admirably."

Without further ado, she opened the first letter, the thickest. The elegant handwriting belonged to Lyla and covered two pages. She began reading immediately.

' _My dear sister,_

 _So much has happened since your departure. We have done our very best to quiet the whispers and gossip, but you ought to know the situation. Father has taken ill upon the reading of your accident.'_

Diana gasped in shock. Her father, ill?

' _The courier carrying the reply to Mr. Wayne's letter had barely left that he fell and could no longer move. Donna and I have tended to him best we could and scrupulously followed the physician's instructions. You will be relieved to learn he has recovered enough to answer business letters now. His hand is not quite stable yet, so he requires my help and I write as he dictates. Mr. Charon keeps a close eye on his decisions and monitors his actions. Though father is mentally aware, he still tires easily. Your presence by Jason's side is undisputable, but I selfishly wish you were here to handle him and welcome the occasional visitors.'_

She nearly folded the paper and ordered Io to pack her trunk. Jason was recovering now, her family –her sisters –needed her more. _Poor father_ , she thought guiltily. He ought not have to learn of Jason's precarious situation this way. Now she understood better why he, or her sisters, had declined visiting the past three days. She forced herself to keep reading.

' _Mother will arrive in the early afternoon. The express has missed her on the way to aunt Menalippe's. I can already feel Donna's relief at not hosting anymore. Artemis and Alexa came to visit, wondering why you have not returned to call on them yet. Donna loathed hiding our current circumstances, and I believe your friends did not believe her excuses. Still, they have left reluctantly after Donna promised you would write to them soon.'_

Diana grimaced, already expecting Artemis's indignation about having been left out of the recent events. She understood Donna's caution thought; while the Bana-Migdall matron had always been kind to them, she thrived on this kind of gossip.

" _The oddest thing happened yesterday. Mr. Luthor has paid a visit to Themyscira, asking to see our brother. He claims you will be his intended after a promise made with Jason. I am uncertain of the veracity of a promise, but Donna and I did not believe you betrothed for a moment. Jason would never,_ _ever_ _force you into marriage, especially to such a man. You ought to have seen Donna, she was so very strong when I was so very scared. She pretended Jason was awake and recovering and Luthor did not like it. I can still see his eyes, Diana. They reeked of evil when he heard our dear brother would pull through…"_

Diana shivered at the thought of her younger sisters facing the odious man. She had never held a conversation with him, but she had caught him watching her at balls and other events, and his eyes always made her feel sullied. She had once thought no man could be worse than General Ludendorff, especially when the man had been forcefully pursuing her, but one glance at Luthor had convinced her otherwise.

The reason for Luthor's visit stirred her anxiety on another matter. Twice now she had been confirmed a rumor that Jason had made a promise of marriage on her name. She needed to confront him soon to know if such rumor had a fund of truth or not. Diana wished she had the frankness to question him earlier. As it was, his mind had not quite recovered yet and he often drifted off after minimal exchanges. Mr. Wayne's physician had assured them that the situation would change for the better, but Diana could only hope it would turn out well.

"Jason would not dare," she whispered determinedly and returned to her reading.

' _Mr. Grayson, whom you must know as Mr. Wayne's godson, came to visit us and told us of Jason's slow recovery. He is a very handsome gentleman with good manners and a kind smile.'_

A spot of ink enlarged the dot, indicating Lyla had paused in her writing a few seconds. Diana wondered what she had been about to add.

' _He has offered to help in whatever manner he could. I believe Donna made an impression on him; he has yet to tear his gaze away from her._ '

Diana snorted, as she hadn't missed what Lyla hadn't said. Mr. Grayson must have been a handsome man indeed if he had caught her youngest sister's attention. Lyla had rarely been exposed to the opposite sex, and as Mr. Wayne's godson, he must hold a certain amount of charm. She would not be surprised if her youngest sister mentioned him in further letters.

' _He next locked himself with father and Donna in his study. They spoke for what felt like hours. When he left, father looked grim and serious. Mr. Grayson assured us he would stop by Themyscira today, so I hurriedly wrote these few words so he could give them to you._

 _Something is going on, Diana. I do not know what and I loathe remaining ignorant. Donna will not share her knowledge with me. I can only fear the worst while praying for the best. Please speak to father or Donna and allow me to help in any way I can. You have always been the one they listened to.'_

Diana put down the letter. While she was glad to have finally received news from her household, she had not expected so much to happen in her absence. It made her feel guilty; she had neglected her duties to her family by putting Jason's health above everything else. That, and, well, she had to admit Mr. Wayne's presence had distracted her quite a bit. Staying in his house had given her the opportunity to observe him amongst his own people. In spite of his numerous absences, his servants liked him and the few tenants she had come across spoke highly of him. Was her opinion changing after one week of living under the same roof?

The rest of the letter was a mixture of farewell greetings and well wishes. Diana set it aside and reached for her father's missive. She noticed it was from his hand, albeit trembling. Lyla was not pretending when she evoked their father's illness.

' _My dearest daughter,_

 _I have always thought you to be the reasonable one of the family. And yet, when I received Mr. W's message, the news of you and your brother's follies gave me more pain than you can ever imagine. An accident is so quickly happened, and you and J are my eldest. I will not remind you of the importance of your safety for the wellbeing of this family._

 _L must have written about my bed rest. It is, I assure you, a direct consequence of your actions. My health is not as good as it used to be, and the shock of hearing J's life in mortal peril did not help._

 _Part of this situation is my own fault, I suppose. Your stepmother has encouraged me to tell you earlier, but my pride has refused to listen._

 _My heart is weak, Diana. For years, it has been declining. It is partly the reason why I am introducing J as my heir now, even though I still seem in excellent form. My end might come swifter than expected, and I have to be prepared._ _Jason_ _has to be prepared.'_

Diana put the letter down, the sting of bitterness resurging in her chest. In spite of her father often acknowledging her sense of business, her brother would inherit everything. Why, _why_ hadn't she been born a boy? The question of who would take over would not be, and none would doubt her skills because of her sex. Still cursing against fate, she went on reading.

' _You and I know he is not ready to take over my place. Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of teaching him our ways myself. You must oversee his progress, Diana. Make him listen to your suggestions, and show him how to successfully work in this world.'_

"As if that mule would ever listen to me!" she snapped angrily and kept reading.

' _If Mr. W has not mentioned his suspicions, demand he explains what he knows. He is an intelligent man who knows his business. Should you have any interrogations about the business, turn to him. We have to keep up appearances with our business partners, else they might look elsewhere. I put a heavy burden on your shoulders, my child, but I know you can stand it.'_

Diana put down the letter, ill-at-ease. What has Mr. Wayne to do with suspicions? And a heavy burden! How was she to teach Jason the many subtleties of trade when himself was still recovering? She loved her brother, but knew he would never follow her advice. He was young and completely inexperienced. She had been involved in her father's business for two full years now, while Jason had indulged with his friends the freedoms given to young men. She stood up and warned Io she was leaving for a while. Her maid didn't try to hold her back. She must know she needed some time alone.

Son

Richard was…unlike himself, Bruce thought with a frown. The young man had just eaten the cook's special treat, and now he was humming –if not smiling –for no reason. Or at least, for no reason that Bruce was aware of.

"What did Lord Troy say?" he inquired eventually. While he would not usually mingle with others' business, he felt quite protective of the young woman currently staying under his roof.

The smile vanished on his godson's face.

"He did not appear overly surprised. He did mention that Jason and Luthor seem to have an interest in the same offer –a lucrative offer, shall I add. Everyone knows who is the most desperate for money."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Why Luthor in particular?"

"He came yesterday to call upon Mr. Jason Troy. Miss Donna sent him on his way."

There was something about the way he pronounced the young lady's name that alerted Bruce immediately. Richard momentarily grew absent and the dreamy smile returned to his face. He had the same dummy expression when he had first spoken of the exotic Miss Kory Amber, an actress he had spent months dallying with before she decided a baron to be of more interest. Biting back a smirk, he went on:

"I assume she held her ground just like a Troy would," he said.

"Luthor is a scoundrel of the worse kind, she was very brave," Richard went on absentmindedly.

"And did you offer her the best comfort?"

His godson glared at him.

"I am not a cad, Bruce."

The ' _unlike you_ ' went unsaid. He took no offense; he knew exactly what kind of behavior he broadcast, and did not wish to hide it.

"Shall you call on her then?"

Richard looked at his shoes.

"She is still going through her first season," he replied. "Perhaps I should attend balls more often. I am already entering the sensible age of twenty-two, after all. It would surprise no-one that I am getting an interest in starting a family."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Are you already considering matrimony?" Richard opened his mouth- "Don't answer that, it is none of my affairs and truthfully, I do not want to know. You can be worse than a damn romantic spurting bad poetry when you are besotted." The younger man looked affronted. Bruce merely smirked. "Back to Luthor and the Troys, if you please."

Richard muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary but went on:

"Something stuck me as odd, when Lord Troy described the business offer. The man –Charlie McAllen, had an oddly similar offer I had from the two idiots a few days back."

"The infamous business you believed to be a sham?"

Richard nodded.

"I suspect this McAllen and the two others are connected. Lord Troy thought the offer too obvious to be true. He was afraid his son would be making a serious mistake by investing in such a venture."

Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk, thinking.

"I am curious about one thing. Luthor is usually more attentive about these offers. Why would he fall for a scheme? You said the drawings were worth looking at, but not necessarily revolutionary."

Richard grimaced.

"The two idiots did suggest that they had more partners waiting for an answer. Perhaps they were expecting me to inquire as to who was interested. If Luthor tried to discourage the young Troy and realized he was intending to pursue that offer, and that he heard I was interested too, he might have deduced the offer to be genuine." He bit his lower lip. "I would have to ask a few friends of mine on Luthor's latest actions."

Bruce snorted.

"Go straight to my town house and search through my office. I ask my usual contacts to keep a close eye on my most…threatening competitors. Although I was about to send my favorite inquisitor on young Troy's trail: now I have a more specific inquiry to make of her."

Richard rolled his eyes.

"You and your women! How can you keep them loyal is a mystery."

"I happen to value their worth and generously compensate their efforts." Bruce thought of at least one woman who might not be truly happy with him. "Although Miss Kyle might not agree."

"Now _that_ is a woman whose resentment I can happily deal with," his godson said. "You have allowed her too many liberties these past months."

"Be happy then, for I have ended our contract."

Richard narrowed his eyes at him. He was not stunned, but definitively intrigued.

"I wonder what brought this change," he said slowly. "Or rather, who? Could it be that I am not the only one considering matrimony?"

Bruce did not take the bait. Instead, he headed to his desk and pulled a decanter and two glasses. It was early in the afternoon, but he felt he needed some strengthening.

"Brandy," he offered. Richard nodded. "Is there anything else I ought to know?"

His godson thought a few moments and told him his own personal impressions. The most worrisome was Lord Troy weakened by a heart attack. His wife had returned and seemed competent enough to keep unwanted company at bay. Neighbors and friends were growing curious at the man's lack of presence; though he was considered a little eccentric, he always showed in his club now and then. Bruce considered speaking with Diana, as she had received letters from his end, and asking her point of view. He did not doubt she might seek him out for further information in turn; after all, she had not met Richard –and _he_ had seen her family with his very eyes.

He was silent long after the younger man stopped talking. Eventually, Richard stood.

"I will return to the town house," he announced. "I want to review what you have on Luthor."

Bruce nodded.

"Do you mind delaying your departure for an hour? I need to write a letter to Miss Lane –and I would rather have you deliver it in person." Before Richard could counter that half an hour's delay would do, he added: "You need to sleep off your brandy. I will have the carriage ready."

The younger man glared at him but agreed. Upon leaving the room, Bruce was slightly puzzled at hearing him muttering something along the lines of _'not a goddamn courier'_ , but let it slide for a later date.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Price of Pride**

 **7**

Diana did not wander far outside. An hour touring the grounds was enough to tire her a little. She did not come across Mr. Wayne or his godson, though she suspected both were locked up in the former's office. She headed straight back to her brother's room. Jason was awake and speaking with Io in soft tones. They both turned silent when she entered.

At first, she felt nothing but relief at seeing him aware and moving. Then, the reasons for her mood returned full force and she scowled.

"So, when am I to be married?" she snapped immediately, else she was certain she would never broach the subject.

Her twin gave her a stare of disbelief.

"How should I know?" he retorted. His voice was weak but his eye spry. He may be physically tired, his mental was perfectly alert. Good. " _Have_ you found a beau yet?"

"No, but hearsay you did."

His face turned even blanker, betraying his confusion. Diana felt her temper rise slightly, so she gave another nudge:

"It seems my behavior has turned for the worse, and the best way to rein me in is to find me a husband. According to Luthor, I am to expect an offer from him and agree."

She noted the moment realization dawned upon him. Jason turned very white, and then very red.

"For heaven's sake-" he started and glared at her. "And you _believed_ them?"

"I have heard those rumors from two different sources now. They must have come from somewhere," she pointed out dryly.

"It was a jest!" he protested. "I indulged a little at my club the other night and we spoke of women and other things...I may have hinted that I was watching out for a match for my sisters, but by God, _you_ of all people should know I would _never_ make a match in your name before _speaking to you first!_ Especially someone like _Luthor_. He is not a good man, and I would not yet sell my own sister's soul to that bastard!"

He sounded hurt by her accusation and his glare made her feel guiltier.

"Understand me, Jason, I had to ask," she retorted quietly. The young man huffed and crossed his arms. She took the two letters she had received earlier and handed them to him. "Read these. You will understand…I believe you, but I had to ask nonetheless."

The glare didn't lessen, but he took the letters and started. Fury grew as he read Lyla's input, but nothing was more flagrant when he finished their father's letter. His face turned white and unreadable. With unusual calm, he folded the letters, and put them on his lap. Then, he slowly looked her in the eye.

"You have no idea how much I wish you have been born a man," he spoke so coldly she felt the chill down her spine. "I knew father wished I was more like you, though he never told me directly. But this," he nodded towards the papers. "This is…" Another pause. "Get out of the room Diana. I have to think."

Had he sounded so ever arrogant like he occasionally did, Diana would have slapped him hard and without thinking twice. Instead, his expression turned grim and his voice defeated. She turned around and left the room, eager to give him the space he needed. As she stepped in the corridor, she felt the weight of her upcoming responsibilities crashing on her shoulders like a heavy wave. She nearly tripped, leaned back against the wall instead, closed her eyes. The sigh she expired left her body empty and cold.

 _I knew father wished I was more like you…_

Diana had always envied her brother for his position; she had never suspected he envied her back. The need to move urged her feet to guide her outside, back to the gardens where she and Mr. Wayne had walked together. She spotted the bench hidden away in the bushes and sat there. The weather was clear and warm, the spot soothed her. Her eyes closed as she breathed in and out slowly. The scent of nearby flowers enveloped her in a gentle cocoon; the sun warmed her skin.

Time seemed to flow as she basked in the solitude of the moment. As long as she stood there, she could forget her worries.

"Are you alright?"

Mr. Wayne's voice interrupted her woolgathering, but she did not mind. She snorted in a very unladylike manner before turning bright. It seemed that whether he annoyed her or not, she let her guard down around him. That, or the exhaustion of the previous days was growing on her.

"I do not know," she replied honestly. "My brother is angry and envious of me, my sisters have been holding off a most disagreeable man away and not telling me, and I do not know what to do."

Mr. Wayne remained silent. While she had kept her eyes closed, she could feel his stare on her. Much to her surprise, it did not bother as much as it ought to.

"May I sit?" he asked eventually. Diana nodded her agreement and shifted on the side to give him space. She opened her eyes, watched him take place by her side, closer than propriety would allow. They were hidden by the bushes though, and she looked more kindly on him after the past week. He suddenly reached for her hand and took it between his owns. The boldness of his gesture surprised her at first, but was soon replaced by a different sensation. His hands were strong and warm, and Diana somewhat felt secured with his touch.

"Richard has told me what he knew," he began. "Your father wrote to me as well. He is in no state to direct his business, and in spite of what he may believe, neither is your brother. I know your family is standing at crossroads as of now and will heavily rely on you."

His words were nothing knew, but hearing the blunt description of her situation made it even more real.

"As you may know, I lost my parents at a relatively young age," he went on. The sardonic smirk did not hide the painful irony: _everyone_ knew about the tragic encounter his parents had with highwaymen. "I did not have relatives, close or distant. My inheritance was closely overviewed by my butler and my father's former personal assistant. I had to fight to keep my right as my father's heir. Fortunately, I was not alone." His thumb caressed the top of her hand. "And neither are you. Your sisters might not be of great help, but they will support you in a personal matter while your father's assistants will in his business." He paused, met her eye again, and held her stare. "I have faith you will prevail."

"Tis kind of you," she replied blankly. "But you don't know my brother like I do. He has his pride, the family pride." She looked at him straight in the eye. "Mr. Wayne, my father mentioned you had suspicions about something. May I inquire what is it about?"

He blinked slowly, clearing considering her request.

"At this point, my suspicions are just conjuncture. I have nothing to prove what I believe to be true." He looked at her in the eye and added softly: "Do watch yourself around Mr. Luthor the next time you meet him. Give him absolutely no reason to encourage him to discuss with you or your sisters. I believe him to be dangerous to your family."

He sounded genuinely worried. All Diana could do was to nod her agreement. A moment passed before she finally regained her mind and whispered:

"I should return to Jason's room."

He said nothing. Instead, he brought her hand to his mouth, pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Diana quickly stood and headed back inside, heart beating _fast_. She needed to stay away –better, to return to Themyscira. The damn man was too charming for his own good. Yes, Themyscira was a reasonable direction. Lyla had asked for her return and she wanted to discuss things further with her father. She would not be escaping his presence, just…retreating. Yes indeed, retreating, because now she had responsibilities to endorse, and staying here would not help matters. _Definitively_ not running from the intensity of his eyes and the heart pounding in her ears…

Now if only she could make it true…

POP

Donna stormed down the staircase when she spotted the carriage entering their garden. Diana had barely set a foot down that she threw her arms around her elder sister and held tight.

"I am so very happy to see you," she blurted immediately. "You have been sorely missed here."

No more aggressive Artemis to fend off, no more inquisitive enquiries from Alexa. Persephone had returned in the middle of the afternoon the previous day and relieved her duty of greeting guests. As the eldest and only member of the family available, Donna had often been requested to oversee some tasks –and she promised herself to get more involved in the household management, because she would not be caught unaware again. They were far more numerous than she believed.

"Thank you Donna," her sister replied with a tired smile. "Tell me, how is father?"

She stepped aside, took her arms and pulled her straight towards the house.

"He will want to see you after you have freshened up," she informed her. "How are you? How was your stay in Gotham? Please tell me you explored a little. Many people know about Wayne house in town, but nothing about the country home!"

As she intended, Diana smiled, amused by her question.

"I did, and the manor is a very pleasant place." She turned more serious. "How much do you know about the current situation?"

Donna rolled her eyes – _has she even read Lyla's letters?_

"You mean do I know father nearly passed with the news of Jason's accident? I was there when he collapsed. Do I know Mr. Wayne is aware of everything? Yep. Do I know Jason is close to make an enemy out of Mr. Luthor? I spoke to Luthor, rather rudely at that, so I suspect he will not keep me close to heart either. Do I know Mr. Wayne suspects Luthor wants to kill our dear brother? I-"

"What?" Diana blurted, interrupting Donna's speech. "Mr. Wayne thinks-" she looked upset. "He didn't tell me."

"Mr. Grayson admitted it to me," she cut quickly, not wanting to linger on the matter, and felt herself blushing a little at the mention of the handsome young man. Lately, when distraught, Donna's thoughts had turned to remembering his handsomeness, his manners and kindness. After the interview with her father, she had been upset enough to shed a tear –she had _not_ expected him to be so weak of health. And Mr. Grayson had attempted to comfort her with kind words, even succeeded in making her smile.

Thankfully, Diana was lost to her own thoughts and failed to notice her momentary silence.

"Mr. Wayne strongly recommended avoiding Mr. Luthor, he did not tell me how far his suspicions stretched!" she sounded upset, but Donna thought it might be Mr. Wayne not sharing his thoughts with her instead of the actual matter.

"They are mostly suspicions," she said in attempt to sooth her sister. "You have enough worries on your mind as it is."

"Such as?"

"Visiting your dear friends and tell them our family is in no danger of collapsing. I had no idea Alexa could be ruthless in her inquiries! Is she truly enamored with Jason?"

"I do not wish to entertain such thoughts at the moment," Diana retorted dryly, but Donna could sense her uneasiness. The matter had occurred to her before, then. Blast it! She was hoping not to have further visits from her older sister's friends. And Jason would have either ignored her or basked in her attentions. Although Alexa was a quiet girl, still waters ran deep and…She could not remember if her brother had the slightest inclination towards the handsome redhead.

"But you will visit them? Today?" she added pressingly. _Pleasepleaseplease_ , she did not want to have to deal with another impromptu visit. How her elder sister could befriend such ladies was beyond her comprehension.

Diana sighed warily.

"I shall as soon as I meet with father. Do not fret Donna, my friends' bark are worse than their bites."

"Perhaps to you," Donna muttered under her breath. "Off to changing you go. Cook made your favorite pie. Shall I have some brought to you?"

Diana smiled, thanked her and told her she would wander down herself. So Donna left her to her own devices, wandered towards Lyla's bedroom instead.

Her younger sibling had received another handful of letters this morning. She sometimes disclosed information on their content, mostly to amuse her siblings, sometimes when gossip was at play. Her family indulged her as a pastime, but now, information from her various could prove to be valuable.

She found her sister in her bedroom, sitting at her desk, going through a stack of papers. The paper for her letters awaited on her desk, near her pen and ink.

"So, what is the news from your friends?" she inquired lightly, thought her question had nothing innocent.

The blonde shrugged in return.

"Nothing concerns us in the town gossip yet. Barbara claims her father has been investigating a group of con men. They have arrived straight from the colonies and been actively acting by businessmen and young traders, selling partials drawings of uncompleted engines and promising to deliver the rest once the investment has been made." She paused. "Do you still study the making of engines on your spare time?"

"I lost my portfolio at Mrs. Beaumont' teashop," she admitted, displeased at the memory. The loss had stung; many of her sketches and drafts would never be recovered. "Carelessness on my part, I left quite abruptly one day. I suppose a young lady took it, though she would have little use for it. My drawings are not good enough to pass as real plans, if that is what you were asking."

Lyla huffed.

"I was merely inquiring." She returned her attention on her letters. "Do you believe we could return to London one afternoon?"

Donna hummed, thinking.

"You ought to ask Persephone, but I assume there will be no trouble. Do you have an errand?"

Her sister pinched her lips guiltily.

"I have begun a correspondence with a girl from the colonies, Miss Kent. She invites me for tea in her house in London." She added softly. "I really want to go."

Donna raised an eyebrow.

"Your health is still precarious," she pointed out. "And London is not an ideal place for you. Why don't you invite her-" she paused and recalled the situation of her family. "Never mind. You still need to ask Persephone if she is willing to let you go one afternoon. I will volunteer to accompany you, if that is agreeable to your friend. Perhaps Diana will want to go too, if only to visit father's office."

Lyla nodded, though she looked quite unconvinced.

"I wonder what father and Diana are speaking of," she said. "I hope the situation isn't as dire as I think it is." She met her eyes. "Can you truly not tell me _anything_?"

Donna lowered her eyes, considering her sister's request. Her health was poor enough, she did not need more distressing news. Unfortunately, withholding information seemed to upset her just as well. She moved to sit on the bed, wondering how much her sister ought to know, and deciding that as she knew very much already, she might as well know all.

POP

The clock chimed twice when Mr. Fox pushed the door of his study open. The arrival of Miss Lois Lane was expected. The arrival of a Mr. Kent was not. Bruce stood and kissed the back of the hand of his longtime friend. Her male follower was approached with much more caution. Clark Kent was tall, perhaps as tall as he, dark-haired and of pleasing disposition. They respectively bowed cordially, although he thought the man might have narrowed his eyes at the familiarity he showed the lady.

Before he could explain his presence, Lois spoke up:

"Well Bruce, please meet Mr. Kent, my fiancé."

Had Bruce not known Miss Lane never joked about the marriage state, he might have sniggered. Instead, he considered the newcomer with a different eye. The groom-to-be was definitively frowning. Whether it be at the use of his first name and the suspicion of the degree of intimacy between them or her introduction, he was not certain.

"Lois and I have been acquainted ever since she made her debuts," he said lightly before turning his attention back to the woman. "I am surprised you are to be married. Allow me to guess, you were caught in a compromising position and Mr. Kent here had to step up?"

The man flushed red wile Lois rolled her eyes. Her own cheeks had tinted pink.

"I was investigating the comings and goings of Lady Isey. She has been suspected of poisoning her husband with her own plants."

"And?"

"And I would love it better if I had more evidence. Cla- Mr. Kent and I sneaked into her greenhouse to find the plant responsible for Lord Isey's death. Unfortunately, her groomsman found us and…"

"You had to improvise." He smirked. "I have always wondered how you would ever be pushed to the altar. Your uncle must have not been happy."

Lois snorted again and her fiancé's expression softened.

"I never believed a man could turn such a shade of purple," she said blankly, and this time, Bruce laughed. As Lois did not appear worse for wear, he deduced she could not be too upset about the final arrangement. "You asked for my presence in your manor," she went on. "I am here and listening."

He gestured to the seats across his desk. The two visitors sat. Tea was offered and declined, so they approached the business at hand.

"What do you know about Luthor?" he asked directly.

His friend immediately peeked up and the same dangerous sparkle light in Lois' eye. Mr. Kent seemed suddenly far more interested.

"Do you have anything to say about him?" the man finally spoke calmly. Bruce was not fooled for a moment. He recognized the same eagerness for information that his fiancée possessed. Perhaps it was not a bad thing that Lois had ended up tied to a man who shared her qualities.

"He may have attempted to kill a direct competitor over a business over," Bruce said slowly. "An offer that, may I add, is very likely to be a sham."

"Do you have any evidence?" Mr. Kent asked, eyebrows frowning. Lois waved her hand to silence him.

"The name of the schemers please," she demanded.

Bruce pulled a paper where Dick had written the three names and addresses he knew of, both from his own experience and from Jason's.

"The names may be fakes," he went on. "Richard met the two first. The unfortunate competitor met the third."

"Murder is a serious accusation, Mr. Wayne," Mr. Kent went on. "You are giving very little to get on with."

Once again, Lois tapped his forearm.

"Bruce would have never called me if he only had names. What else?"

"There is a ball upcoming at Fitzroy's Town house next week. Luthor, the competitor and myself will be present; I am hoping to trigger a reaction then." He smirked as he pulled two invitations and put them on the desk. "If you could witness and report, I would be truly grateful."

Mr. Kent's eyes popped wide open. Lois merely laughed.

"I genuinely hope you were not expecting to invite me as your _escort_ ," she said with a grin. "I have my own partner."

"Why would a Lord give another invitation to a private ball to someone like you?" Mr. Kent blurted quite straightforwardly.

The woman rolled her eyes –yet again. Bruce leaned back in his seat, amused.

"Clark," and the man blushed at the use of his first name in company. "You have recently arrived from the colonies. You truly need to get acclimated to the inside working of English wealth system. My dear Bruce here," she pointed at him, "is one of the wealthiest men of England –and _he is no aristocrat_! Many Lords and Dukes and other titled ones hate him for that."

"I _do_ possess a lucrative business," Bruce replied with false modesty. Mr. Kent's frown reappeared. Bruce thought he might enjoy riling him up in the future.

"So if he wants Lord Fitzroy to issue an extra invitation for his particular friend, Lord Fitzroy will issue an extra invitation for his particular friend and give it to him in person."

"Actually, they came through express this morning," Bruce retorted with a hint of a smile. "I believe Lady Isey is also invited."

He had Lois right _there_. The possibility of following up two scandals was too great of an opportunity to pass off. He could have added that Oliver Fitzroy was a genuine friend and loved inviting scandals-in-the-waiting amongst crowds in hope of a fabulously distracting evening. Lois would smell a huge opportunity to attend the best gossiping events –and harass him until he sought invitations in her name. While a great ally, the enthusiastic investigator could be a little too…enthusiastic.

His friend took the invitations wearing a Cheshire cat grin. Mr. Kent looked a little less certain.

"I shall see you next week, Mr. Wayne," she said as she stood up. "Do you intend to come alone or bring Miss Troy? Rumors say Miss Kyle is distraught to have been replaced."

And _that_ was exactly why he both admired and stood wary of Lois Lane. Her contacts and skill for fishing out gossip were unparalleled. Instead of hiding the sudden unease the question brought, he replied:

"Who knows what might happen, one week is a long time."

It was not an answer but for Lois, an answer enough. She had suspected his interest the moment he had spoken of Ludendorff's outrageous behavior towards her. Though his intimate life was not a subject she tended to linger over, she never missed the opportunity to guess who his next paramour might be. It could have been amusing, had he not actually held Miss Troy in a complete different regard.

Lois left, quickly followed by Mr. Kent, and Bruce lost his smile. His guest was still recovering in his room. He would soon need a conversation with the Troy heir and convince him to go along with the upcoming plan...


End file.
